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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781361">The Loss We Learned</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle'>DeathBelle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Exes to Lovers, Kind of a slowburn, M/M, Pining, Post-Timeskip, canonverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:09:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>41,677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Suna and Osamu broke up, it wasn’t on good terms. The end was bitter, and Suna has tried his best to forget about the breakup - and about Osamu - over the past five years. </p><p>He’s done well, for the most part. He rarely thinks about Osamu anymore and he’s had a successful life without him. Suna doesn’t need Osamu. He never did. </p><p>But when they see each other by mistake, Suna finds it more difficult to forget what they had in the past. He doesn’t need Osamu, but maybe Suna still wants him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2151</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. feels like december knows me well</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I listened to too much Dermot Kennedy and this fic happened.</p><p>It isn't a songfic, but I'll suggest a song to go with each chapter to set the mood, if you're into that sort of thing. This chapter's song is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J3DzabAtbR0">Moments Passed.</a> The title was pulled from these lyrics, too. I'll update every Friday.</p><p>Thanks for reading! 💜</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Suna had always been a sore loser.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t show it. That would be in bad taste, and it would suggest that he took wins and losses personally, which he didn’t. Volleyball was just a game, no matter how many days and weeks and years of his life he poured into it. Volleyball was just a game. Winning wasn’t everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was easy to say when their team won; more difficult when they didn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It would be too bad if he had an unfortunate accident,” said Suna under his breath, moments after the final spike had slammed onto their court and the cheers of the crowd started to fade. “Broke a leg, maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Komori didn’t answer – maybe because he was too nice to agree, or more likely he wanted everyone to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was too nice to agree – but he also didn’t ask who Suna meant. It was obvious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their captain waved them toward the net, and Suna almost didn’t go. That smug, ugly smirk was infuriating from across the court and Suna didn’t want to see it up close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Suna was a team player even if he was a sore loser, so he wiped the sweat out of his eyes and lined up with the rest of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Black Jackals were fine for the most part, aside from their tendency to win almost every match they played. They were friendly when they shook Suna’s hand, thrilled with the win but humble enough to not rub salt in fresh wounds. Sakusa barely touched Suna’s hand before moving past, eyes averted, but Suna had heard enough about him from Komori to be unoffended. Most of the Jackals were okay, but then there was-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sunarin, always a pleasure to beat ya. Better luck next time.” Atsumu’s grin was wide, taunting. Suna wanted to slap it off of his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lucky you have a good team,” said Suna, his voice as passive as he could make it. “They carried you today, ‘Tsumu. Your tosses were shaky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That wiped away Atsumu’s smile just as quickly as a slap would have. It might’ve been even more satisfying. Atsumu’s eyes went narrow and he said, “You’re just tryin’ to piss me off. It’s not workin’. Don’t be a sore loser.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not. I’ve never been.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu scoffed. “Sure you haven’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna suppressed an eye roll, only because he was very aware that their coach was probably watching. He took a step away, to move on to the last couple of Jackals so he could retreat, but Atsumu’s grip went tight around his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you should come out with us after this,” said Atsumu. He was grinning again, a little brighter and slightly less annoying. Just slightly. “There’s a real nice bar down the street. We go every time we play here, ‘specially when we win. Which is almost always.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna couldn’t fight the eye roll anymore. He flicked a glance up at the ceiling, the bright lights searing his eyes, and jerked his hand out of Atsumu’s. “Thanks, but I’d rather die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll start writin’ your eulogy then, ‘cause Meian’s inviting your whole team and you’re not gonna have a choice.” Atsumu tossed him a wink, the kind that was meant to be charming but only made Suna grind his teeth. “I’ll save ya a seat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna glared at him until another Jackal shifted over to take his place and shake Suna’s hand. Hinata. Suna remembered him from high school too, but he’d never expected to see him in the professional league. He was good. Suna had underestimated him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good game,” said Suna, and it wasn’t just a courtesy. He meant it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks!” Hinata’s smile was as bright as Atsumu’s – brighter, even – but without that annoying curl of his lips that made Suna want to throttle him. “You, too! I look forward to our next match!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna agreed. He was eager to face the Jackals again. They were starting to forget what losing felt like and Suna would gladly give them a reminder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting off of the court was much easier after a loss, with fewer people taking pictures and crowding in to ask questions. Suna tried to think of that as something positive, but still had a bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he slouched away from the commotion. He kept his head up and his face neutral, in case anyone was watching. He didn’t want to get called out for bad sportsmanship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was a sore loser, but hardly anyone knew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shower after a long match was always soothing. Suna cranked the water as hot as it would go and stood in the steam until his knotted muscles loosened up. Some of his teammates’ voices filtered past the purr of the running water, but they were more subdued than they would have been after a win. If they’d beaten the Jackals, the locker room would’ve been joyous chaos.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next time. They’d get them next time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna hitched a towel around his hips and stepped out of the shower. The locker room wasn’t cold, but he shivered as he left the hot steam. He navigated around several of his teammates in various states of undress and yanked open the locker he’d claimed when they’d gotten to the stadium earlier that afternoon. He fished around for his sweats, hair dripping down the back of his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone cleared their throat loudly from the other side of the locker room. Suna knew without looking who it was and what he was about to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen up, guys!” Their team captain had climbed onto a bench, making his catastrophic height even more devastating. He was as serious as ever. Even when they won a match, he looked like he was officiating a funeral. “We all did good out there today. I’m proud of all of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d heard the same speech so many times that each of his teammates chorused “Thanks, captain” simultaneously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their captain continued talking and Suna effectively tuned him out as he got dressed. There was no need to listen. It was the same </span>
  <em>
    <span>we lost</span>
  </em>
  <span> speech as always, with a few adjustments for the specific mistakes they might have made. Suna already knew what he’d done wrong. He didn’t need anyone to tell him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was in his sweats and jacket with his bag slung over his shoulder when he caught the new addition to the captain’s monologue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Meian invited us to get drinks with their team. He’s buying the first round, as a show of good sportsmanship. And yes, you have to go. Get your stuff and we’ll head out. I know some of us might be unhappy about losing, but be polite to the Jackals.” He turned his head to look directly at Suna as he said it, before hopping off of the bench and going to his own locker. Suna realized only then that the captain had been dressed only in his underwear for the duration of the speech.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d he look at me?” said Suna, as Komori nudged his locker closed and stepped up beside him. “I’m polite.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To some people, sure,” said Komori. “To Atsumu… not so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m only rude to him when he’s asking for it,” said Suna. He considered, and amended, “Which is all the time. I don’t like his face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Komori snorted. He was clearly trying not to smile and doing a terrible job of it. “I don’t think it’s his face. Mostly just his attitude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna shrugged. “His attitude sucks too, but his face doesn’t help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Komori hid his laugh underneath a cough, probably because their captain was looking in their direction again. He must have sensed Suna trash talking Atsumu. He had a way of doing that. Sometimes Suna thought he was telepathic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna gave him a winning smile and the captain turned back to his locker. At least he was wearing a shirt now, even if he was still pantsless. On multiple occasions that Suna would prefer to forget, their captain had strutted around completely nude until someone had reminded him that clothing was social protocol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mind Atsumu that much,” admitted Suna, and it was somewhat true. They’d had their arguments over the years, primarily in high school, but he didn’t mind Atsumu. He liked him most of the time, although he was embarrassed to say it. Atsumu was fine. Suna could deal with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trouble was what – </span>
  <em>
    <span>who</span>
  </em>
  <span> – Atsumu reminded him of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a reason Suna didn’t like Atsumu’s face, and that was because it looked better on someone else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a weird way of showing it.” Komori patted him on the shoulder. “Just don’t bite his head off while we’re there. Captain will make us all run extra laps, you know he will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” said Suna. He zipped up his jacket and started toward the locker room door, Komori tagging along behind him. “I’ll be civil as long as Atsumu is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Komori sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both of them knew that wouldn’t be for very long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their captain made them walk to the bar together as a team, which was unfortunate. Suna had already created a plan to step inside the bar, immediately walk out again, and say with absolute honesty that he’d gone and everyone must have missed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He told himself that a free drink was worth the trouble, that at least they were getting some sort of consolation prize for the loss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna intended to order the most expensive drink on the menu, whether he liked it or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Jackals had settled at a long table at the far side of the bar. They were already drinking and laughing and having a great time, the same as Suna would have been doing if EJP had won instead. They should have turned down Meian’s invitation and let the Jackals have their stupid celebration alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, guys,” said their captain, waving them forward. “Remember what I said. Be nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna rolled his eyes and dragged his feet as they approached, his teammates filtering in among the Jackals they were most familiar with. Suna tried to find a seat at the extreme end of the table, as far away from everyone else as possible, but the chairs were already taken. His options were limited, and none of them looked good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu swiveled to look over his shoulder, his arm stretched across the back of a vacant chair. He gave Suna a wicked grin and patted the empty seat in invitation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna kept his face flat and hoped Atsumu could hear the absolute refusal even without words. Instead Suna circled the end of the table and dropped into one of very few remaining chairs. It was almost directly across the table from Atsumu, which wasn’t ideal, but it was better than sitting right beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well look who decided to join us,” said Atsumu cheerfully. He leaned onto the table to grin at Suna. There was a half-empty drink at his elbow. “I knew you liked hangin’ out with me, Sunarin. Just admit it, you’re not foolin’ anybody.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna checked the time. He’d gone exactly two minutes after walking through the door without saying anything rude. “If we were the last two people on earth, I would sail a boat to Russia just to get away from you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah.” Atsumu shrugged that off, unbothered. “If we were the last two people alive we’d spend every wakin’ minute together. Best friends for life. You’d prob’ly fall in love with me and I’d hafta turn you down because my heart’ll always belong to someone else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s lip curled. “You’re disgusting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t say that to your best friend, Sunarin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone patted Suna’s back with a little too much force. He glanced to the side to find his captain passing by, his stare pointed. He said, “Don’t order the most expensive drink on the menu out of spite,” and his squint added, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t make a scene with the Jackals in public</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was almost offended. Not about the drink thing, because of course he’d been planning to do that. But he’d never made a scene in his life, not really. In the past he’d engaged in a few heated arguments that could have been more private, but in situations like this, he’d always kept a low profile. Miya Atsumu wasn’t enough to rattle him, and if that had been the worst thing he had to face that night, he would have been fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it wasn’t, not even close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite Suna’s urge to order something fancy, he got an umeshu tonic, which was what he would have bought for himself anyway. He drank it, checked the time, and realized only twenty minutes had passed. It felt like two hours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Across the table, Atsumu chattered about something Suna had long since stopped listening to. The chair beside him was still empty. Suna bitterly thought it was likely because Atsumu’s teammates didn’t like him either, but that didn’t seem to be true. Hinata was on Atsumu’s other side, listening intently, and Bokuto had stopped whatever booming story he’d been telling to hear Atsumu’s. Washio, who’d ended up beside Suna, also seemed to be interested but he may have been pretending. He was far more polite than Suna had ever been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wondered if it was too early to leave. A glance down the table and a narrow look from his captain suggested it was. Maybe after one more drink he could slip out unnoticed. It wasn’t as if he could go home until the following day when they all boarded the team bus together, but he would rather sulk in his hotel room alone than be surrounded by Jackals. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their server flitted around every few minutes, but Suna thought he should walk to the bar to order his next drink. That was a socially acceptable thing to do, and it would get him away from the table for a few minutes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tipped back his glass again, drained the last few drops, and placed it in the center of the table. He pushed his chair back, but before he could excuse himself, he discovered who Atsumu had been saving the empty chair for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna would have thought Sakusa if he’d been guessing, because he was nowhere in sight. Somehow he’d found a way out of this and Suna would’ve liked to know how, so he could do the same next time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it wasn’t Sakusa. It wasn’t another Jackal. It was the last person Suna would have expected, and the last that he wanted to see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Miya Osamu walked up to their table, knocked Atsumu’s elbow off the back of the vacant chair, and sat down like he belonged there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s heart leapt into his throat, sticking there in a way that felt like suffocation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This wasn’t really happening. It couldn’t have been. He’d somehow gotten highly inebriated from his single drink and had developed double vision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except Osamu had never looked quite like Atsumu, and that realization was even more obvious now. Suna hadn’t seen them together in years. The differences were unmistakable, even without the tell of their hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna swallowed past the lump in his throat. It was slightly painful. Across the table, Atsumu snapped something at Osamu and jabbed an elbow at him, his grin softening the blow. Atsumu’s eyes darted to Suna, lingering, before he turned his head to resume whatever conversation he’d been in the middle of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu listened just long enough to decide he wasn’t interested. He plucked up Atsumu’s drink, raised it to his mouth, and took a quick sweep of the table. His gaze slid over Suna, skimmed past, and snapped back, his shoulders going stiff. He lowered the drink slowly, and his expression made it very clear that he hadn’t expected to see Suna. Atsumu hadn’t told him EJP would be there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna looked at Atsumu again, who pointedly ignored him. Suna wished he hadn’t finished his drink so he could throw it in Atsumu’s face. Atsumu had clearly known his brother would show up. He’d probably invited him. He could have at least given Suna a warning, so he could have emotionally prepared himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or more likely so he could have found a good excuse to leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Suna,” said Osamu, his voice low.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suna</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t flinch away from the sound of his name, but it was a near thing. Osamu hadn’t called him </span>
  <em>
    <span>Suna</span>
  </em>
  <span> since their first year of high school, and even then it had been temporary. It had quickly transitioned to Sunarin, then Rintarou, and then just Rin, called across the court or murmured in his ear or whispered against his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s gut clenched at the flash of memory. He didn’t want to think about that, especially not with Osamu sitting an arm’s reach away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Miya,” Suna returned, his voice perfectly level.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A wince touched Osamu’s face, so quickly that Suna may have imagined it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he hadn’t. It had been there, and it gave Suna a thrill of vindictive pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t know both teams were comin’ out,” said Osamu. He tossed a glance at Atsumu, who was very involved in a conversation with Hinata. He was clearly ignoring the pair of them on purpose. Suna despised him. “It was a good game.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course Osamu had been there. Suna knew he catered most of the Jackals’ big games. He tried not to think about Osamu often, but it was impossible not to know that when his teammates drifted off before their warmups and came back with takeout bags branded </span>
  <em>
    <span>Onigiri Miya</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess,” said Suna. He desperately wished he’d gone to get that second drink when it had first crossed his mind. At best, he would’ve seen Osamu coming and could have left. At worst, he would at least have a drink in his hand to ease the sting of Osamu’s voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been years since he’d heard it. At least four, closer to five. Suna had thought that was long enough that it wouldn’t hurt anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You played good,” said Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had been wrong. It still hurt, more than it should.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not good enough.” Suna stared at his empty glass. It was easier than looking directly at Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were plenty good enough,” said Osamu. “Takes a whole team. You did your part just fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah Sunarin, you did just fine,” said Atsumu, finally acknowledging them. He looked between the pair of them, ostensibly at ease, but something about his face was slightly wary. “Not your fault we’re the best team in the country. It’s a burden.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should’ve been wary. Suna was going to murder him, and not just for being a cocky asshole.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bein’ related to you is the real burden, dipshit,” said Osamu. He took a long swallow of Atsumu’s drink and leaned away when Atsumu tried to snatch it back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I paid for that!” said Atsumu, finally swiping the glass out of Osamu’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, somebody who’s on the best team in the country could buy his brother a drink every now’n then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buy your own, ‘Samu. You made a killin’ at the match tonight. You should be buyin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> drinks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not happenin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stood; maybe a bit abruptly, judging by the way the twins blinked up at him. “I’m getting another drink,” he said, as he pushed his chair underneath the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get me one while you’re up,” said Atsumu. “I’ll pay ya back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was a lie. If Suna bought Atsumu a drink, he’d never see that money again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna walked away without looking back at either of them. He wanted to walk right out of the bar, and he probably would have if his captain hadn’t also left the table to get another round of drinks. He gave Suna a look as he passed by, and Suna had gotten enough of those looks during his tenure with the team that he knew exactly what it meant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of leaving, Suna went to the bar and slid onto a vacant barstool. He waited patiently until the bartender took his order, although what he really wanted to do was bash his own head against the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was a nightmare. He’d thought going out with the Jackals was the worst thing that could happen to him, but he’d been wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Five years. It had almost been five years and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> couldn’t comfortably sit in the same room as Osamu. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was a special sort of pathetic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he hadn’t moved on. He had, and he’d heard from mutual acquaintances that Osamu had done the same. Suna had dated other people. Some of them had been his boyfriends for varying lengths of time. He hadn’t spent his days daydreaming about Osamu. Sure Suna thought about him sometimes, but only in passing. He didn’t dwell on the past. There was no point. It was done, he’d moved on, and none of that mattered anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he didn’t understand why he felt like his ribs were cracking apart just because they were in the same bar together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bartender brought Suna his drink, and Suna asked for one more, because he thought he would need it. It was only with a mouthful of alcohol that he worked up the courage to swivel around on his stool.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu was still there, right where Suna had left him. One of his hands was fisted in the shoulder of Atsumu’s shirt and he was hissing into Atsumu’s ear, his head down, expression hidden. Suna didn’t need to see his face to know Osamu was angry. He hadn’t expected this either, hadn’t known what he was walking into.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna took another drink, and Osamu released his brother. He sat back in his chair and whipped off his hat to push a hand through his hair. It was darker than Suna had ever seen it, dark enough that it must have been his natural color. Osamu pulled the cap back on and leaned over to bite something else at Atsumu, who rolled his eyes and snapped something back. Suna couldn’t hear any of it from that distance, and he doubted anyone at the table could, either. Over the years the twins had perfected the art of arguing in whispers so their parents would stop yelling at them every five minutes. Sometimes it didn’t work – Suna thought of the last high school volleyball incident in particular – but for the most part they’d learned to be discreet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But even if no one else noticed, Suna always did.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna drained the rest of his drink and put the empty glass on the counter just as the bartender delivered a fresh one. Suna thanked him, passed over a handful of yen, and turned toward the table again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to go back. He really, really didn’t. Dealing with Atsumu was bad enough, but Osamu was worse. Suna didn’t know what to say to him. They hadn’t parted ways on the best of terms, and while Suna wasn’t bitter anymore, he still remembered every excruciating detail of their final fight. He wondered if that was the first thing Osamu had thought about when he saw Suna. He really hoped not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna checked the time. He’d been there for forty-five minutes. If he could last for an hour, he thought he could reasonably slip out without attracting his captain’s ire. An hour was a long time. It was enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes. If he could survive sitting at a table with Osamu for fifteen minutes, he could get out of there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It shouldn’t be difficult. They’d been friends before they’d dated. He could make conversation with Miya Osamu – his first boyfriend, first love, first </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> – for fifteen minutes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna took another gulp of alcohol to brace himself and begrudgingly returned to the table. He dropped into his seat and chose to stare at his drink instead of checking to see if Osamu was looking at him. Suna was almost certain that he was. He felt it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s my drink, Sunarin?” said Atsumu. He leaned over to grab for Suna’s, but Suna whisked the glass away from him. “I toldja to get me one!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you? Guess I didn’t hear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard me just fine!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna shrugged and his eyes slipped to Osamu. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was right. Osamu was looking directly at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, guess I’ll get my own,” said Atsumu, huffing as he pushed away from the table. He nudged Osamu’s shoulder with his fist as he passed by and drifted toward the bar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu turned his head, but only for a second. His gaze returned to Suna, steady, shaded by the brim of his hat. His voice went lower as he said, “How’ve you been, Rintarou?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna exhaled a slow breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been wrong. He couldn’t do this for fifteen minutes. He couldn’t do it for fifteen </span>
  <em>
    <span>seconds</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he said. He rolled his half-empty glass between his palms. “Good. Just… volleyball. You know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Volleyball.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna remembered the last time Osamu had said that word to him. It had been in a much different tone, fierce and fanged. Suna had bitten back even sharper, with words shaped to wound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d been terrible to each other at the end. Suna wondered if Osamu regretted it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about you?” asked Suna, to chase away the bitter memories.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu shrugged. His shoulders were broad, strong. “Workin’. That’s about all I have time for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” said Suna. He gave himself permission to glance down at Osamu’s chest, at the small onigiri printed on Osamu’s shirt. “I’ve heard your restaurant is doing well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it is.” Osamu hesitated, his brow scrunching in the shadow of his hat. He asked, “You ever had it? My food, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna almost lied, because the truth felt too sharp. But he was honest as he said, “No. I haven’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu dipped his head. He didn’t seem to be disappointed, but Suna thought maybe he was hiding it. “That’s too bad. It’s good food. I might be kinda biased, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt it,” said Suna, aiming for passive. “My teammates say it’s good. They buy it when you sell at our games.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu didn’t ask the question, but Suna heard it anyway: </span>
  <em>
    <span>So why don’t you?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your family okay?” said Osamu. It was a safe thing to ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Suna. He wondered how much time had passed. It felt like hours, but it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. “Yeah, they’re fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he would’ve said something else, or maybe Suna would have come up with something to say, if given more time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu returned before either of them had a chance, and Suna was quietly grateful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, asshole,” said Atsumu. He plopped into his seat and slid a glass in front of Osamu. “You’re buyin’ the next round.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t remember agreein’ to that.” Osamu took a long swallow of beer. He was probably grateful for the distraction, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t hafta agree. I made the decision for you.” Atsumu reached across the table to clink the edge of his glass against Suna’s. “You’re playin’ Aran-kun next week, yeah? Maybe you’ll stand a chance against him since you can’t win against me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you implying you think you’re better than Aran?” said Suna. “I’ll make sure to tell him you said that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon Sunarin, I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll leave that up to his interpretation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And he’ll interpret that you were bein’ a dick, as usual.” Osamu knocked against Atsumu with an elbow as he rose. “I’m gonna step outside for a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Course you are,” said Atsumu. He leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “Bad fuckin’ habit, ‘Samu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu waved him off and walked away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t watch him go, as badly as he wanted to. Instead he focused on Atsumu, who seemed less comfortable now that Osamu wasn’t there as a social buffer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” hissed Suna, keeping his voice low enough that it was almost lost in Bokuto’s loud chatter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu shrugged. “What’s it matter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know why it matters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re just bein’ stupid,” said Atsumu. He checked over his shoulder, as if making sure Osamu was still gone. “All that bullshit was a long time ago. Get over it, Sunarin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not your business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure it is. I had to deal with all of ‘Samu’s whinin’ back then, too.” Atsumu screwed up his face and said in the most annoying possible voice, “<i>Rin did this,</i> and <i>Rin said that,</i> and <i>Rin hurt my feelings</i>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He never said that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was implied, alright? You can’t just not talk to him for the rest of your life. Grow a backbone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s eyes went narrow. “Did you do this on purpose?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Course not, I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna slapped a hand against the table as he stood. Atsumu flinched, and Suna was pleased. If they hadn’t been in public with at least three of their teammates now staring at them, he would’ve tried to slap some common sense into Atsumu’s thick skull. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t about you,” said Suna. He kept his voice quiet, despite the urge to snap. “It’s between me and him. I know you’ve always thought the world revolves around you, but it doesn’t. Grow up, Atsumu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, it’s not like that! There’s nothin’ to be mad about, I was just- Sunarin. Sunarin!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stomped off, ignoring the call of his name. He realized just before storming out of the bar that he still had a drink in his hand. He tipped it back, drained it, and left the empty glass on the nearest table as he pushed through the heavy door and stepped outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembered too late that Osamu had gone outside first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was a few paces away from the door, his back against the wall of the bar and a cigarette tucked between his lips. Suna met his eyes and Osamu seemed startled, like he’d been caught doing something wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna should have walked away. The sidewalk was right in front of him and his hotel was only a couple of blocks down the street. He should’ve walked away and been done with this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a few steps, but in the wrong direction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your brother’s a dick,” said Suna. He propped a shoulder against the wall beside Osamu and hated himself for staying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just now realizin’ that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’ve known since the day I met him.” Suna sighed and glanced back toward the street. A few cars passed by, the purr of their engines blending into a white noise that may have been soothing if Suna had been talking to literally anyone other than Miya Osamu. “I don’t know how you’ve gone so long without killing him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get a little closer every day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. He should have walked away. He needed to walk away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You smoke now?” said Suna, as Osamu plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled a foggy breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wish I didn’t,” said Osamu. “Picked it up a couple years ago. Harder to quit than you’d think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still didn’t leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ever go back to Hyogo?” asked Osamu after a few quiet minutes had passed. “To visit, or whatever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. There’s no reason for me to be there.” Not now, not anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu nodded. He knelt to grind his cigarette out on the asphalt. “Yeah, guess there’s not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That sent a pang through Suna’s chest. It might have been regret. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he’d first started playing professionally, he’d made lots of trips back to Hyogo. He’d had a reason then, a good one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu rose and tossed his cigarette into a nearby bin. He said, “Well if you’re ever around, you’re welcome to come by the restaurant. Food’s on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna smiled, just a little, just enough to make the pain in his chest cut deeper. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry ‘bout ‘Tsumu,” said Osamu, a little more quietly. “I wouldn’t’ve come, if I’d known. Don’t wanna make it awkward for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna swallowed. “It’s fine. It…” He hesitated. He shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t let himself, but it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “It’s good to see you, Osamu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s expression was hard to read. It was dark, and his hat left a shadow across his face. “Yeah,” he said, subdued. “Good to see you too, Rintarou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It still wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rin</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but that was okay. Things weren’t like they used to be. They’d never be like that again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You leavin’?” asked Osamu after a moment, his hands in his pockets and his shoe scuffing back and forth over the pavement. “You don’t have to. I’ll go, you belong here more than I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve had all the fun I can stand for one night. I didn’t want to come anyway. I knew ‘Tsumu would be more annoying than usual after that win.” He turned toward the street, because he couldn’t keep staring at Osamu’s face, trying to guess what he was thinking. “Good luck dealing with him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna walked away. It should’ve been an easy thing to do, but it wasn’t. As much as he’d wanted to run the moment he saw Osamu, now he didn’t want to go. There was something achingly familiar about him, even all these years later. It gave Suna a specific sort of feeling that he couldn’t put into words. There was a touch of melancholy too, echoing from the past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took one step onto the sidewalk, stopped. He turned back and Osamu was still standing in the same place, watching him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna took a breath and said, “I never changed my number.” He wanted to say more. He needed to, because he couldn’t leave it like that. Osamu would get the wrong idea. Suna needed to say more, but all he managed was, “Just… so you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s face was a shadow. His shoulders rose and then fell again. He said, “G’night, Rintarou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words were gentle, but they carried a sting of rejection. It shouldn’t have been disappointing. Suna didn’t want to be with Osamu anymore. He hadn’t wanted that since they’d broken up, except during a few vulnerable nights when he’d realized that all the mistakes hadn’t been solely Osamu’s. Suna had made them too, plenty of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that was done now. All of it was done. Suna had lost him, and he wouldn’t be a sore loser, not over this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Osamu.” Suna gave a weak wave as he walked away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t look back.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. all these memories get written in the scars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter's song is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TINZOHZ5DK4">Outgrown.</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>EJP lost sometimes. It was inevitable in the Division 1 League. There was so much talent on every single team that no one could win every time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Suna really wished they could, because he despised the practices that came after a loss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s shoes squeaked against the floor as he landed, hands burning from the last block. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t done forty-five minutes of spiking drills first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tighten it up, Suna!” called their coach from across the gym. “You let that one slip right through!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Suna hadn’t been exhausted from getting run into the ground, he would’ve blocked it. He considered shouting that across the gym, to burn off some of his frustration if nothing else. But he simply accepted the criticism with a nod and returned to his position, hands curled in front of his face, focused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped the next one. It scalded like someone lit a handful of matches against his palm, but he stopped it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A short eternity later Suna lied down on the gym floor and pretended to stretch, although he was really thinking about collapsing and never moving again. Washio was nearby. He sank into a hamstring stretch, and if his grunt of pain was any indication, he was hurting just the same as Suna.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was the third practice after their loss to MSBY. Their coach had been vehement about whipping them into shape so they wouldn’t have a repeat performance when they faced the Jackals again three months from now. Suna thought their coach must have a vendetta against MSBY in particular, because he was never this overbearing when they lost to any other team. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna pulled his knee close to his chest and sighed at the stretch. His body despised him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he could survive another month of this, he would have a full week to recover. If the mid-season break hadn’t been coming up, Suna would’ve quit the team on the spot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, that was a lie. Suna would’ve buckled down and gotten through it. Still, quitting was a nice thought. He could get a desk job and never have to run laps again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except if he was doing absolutely anything other than volleyball he would be miserable, much more miserable than he was when he peeled himself upright and shuffled to the locker room to shower. Playing professionally was hard, but it was his choice, and he didn’t regret it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was so tired that he felt he could sleep for a solid week, but he scraped up the energy to shower and dress quickly so he could go home and collapse in the comfort of his own home. He almost considered catching the bus, but a glance at the time suggested that the wait at the bus stop would be longer than the walk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tucked his phone away as he started down the block, the toes of his shoes scuffing against the sidewalk because he was too tired to lift his feet. He pulled his hood up despite the late evening heat and thought fondly of the leftovers in his refrigerator. It was takeout from three nights ago, but Suna thought a quick zap in the microwave would leave it good as new.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A taxi blew by a little too fast. A pair of women walked in the opposite direction, giggling at an inside joke with their heads ducked together. One or both of them smelled like floral perfume. Suna passed a street vendor selling yakitori, and the waft of it on the air reminded him that he had only eaten two protein bars all day. The sun was going down but it was still hot; hot enough that there was no need for Suna to wear his jacket, but he liked the way the hood shaded his eyes. At least he’d worn shorts instead of sweats so he wasn’t in danger of heat stroke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s phone beeped and he pawed it out of his pocket as he stepped through a crosswalk. When he was safely on the other side, he glanced at the screen. It was a message from an unfamiliar number, and he assumed they’d gotten the wrong person.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey, you have time to talk?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna put his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t waste his time responding to a wrong number. They would figure it out when he didn’t answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He made it to the corner, took one step toward his apartment building, and abruptly stopped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought of standing outside an unfamiliar bar, blurting “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I haven’t changed my number” </span>
  </em>
  <span>while a shadowed face watched him. He thought of Osamu; reserved and perceptive, older and a little different than Suna remembered but still somehow exactly the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The message wasn’t from Osamu. It couldn’t be. They hadn’t spoken for almost five years, which clearly meant Osamu didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to speak to him. Suna shouldn’t have said anything at the bar last week. He’d only made things more awkward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t as if he wanted to talk to Osamu, either. When they’d parted ways, it had been permanently. They’d both agreed they weren’t good for each other anymore, even if that agreement hadn’t exactly been civil at the time. Regardless, it had been the truth. It still was. Both of them knew it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t want to talk to Osamu, but as he climbed the stairs and ignored the practice-worn weakness of his quads, he was looking at his phone, as if prolonged staring would give an extra clue about who the message was from.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a wrong number. It must have been. A stranger had gotten a new phone, or typed a digit wrong, or been given a fake number by someone unmoved by their attempts at flirtation. It was a mistake, and there was no reason for Suna to be so worked up about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dropped his phone onto the counter and pushed his sleeves up as he went to the refrigerator. The air was cold against his forearms as he fished out the leftovers, plopped them beside the microwave, and went straight back to his phone again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna typed back </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span> and tapped send before he could overthink it. He put the phone on the counter, face down, and went back to his food. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was stupid. Some stranger would call him and Suna would have to explain that they had the wrong number. It was an inconvenience, a waste of time. Ignoring the message was the smartest way to go. Less human interaction, less effort. Expecting anything different was ridiculous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna slapped the microwave door shut, and before he started it, his phone rang. He’d been listening so hard for the ringtone that he flinched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a stranger. Just a stranger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna picked up the phone. It was the same unknown number. His gut lurched nervously and he tried to ignore it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost didn’t answer the call, even though he’d agreed to it. There was no point. He would just be disappointed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, not disappointed. There was nothing to be disappointed about, because he didn’t want to talk to Osamu. He hadn’t wanted to see him at the bar, and if he could go the rest of his life without speaking to him again, it would be perfectly fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But as he answered the call and held the phone against his ear, a quiet, fleeting voice in his head said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Osamu?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out loud, Suna said, “Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing. There was some sort of background noise, maybe a tv from a different room or a distant crowd of people.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna waited, his nervous expectation gradually fading. He’d been right. Of course he was right. Whoever the caller was would realize they didn’t recognize Suna’s voice. They would hang up, or apologize, and Suna would be angry at himself for even considering-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Rintarou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s heart slowed to a full stop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment passed, and from the other end of the call there was a hesitant, “Uh. Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna sucked in a breath and his pulse kicked into overdrive. The nervous flutter in his gut spread, and his hand gave a weak twitch as his grip tightened on the phone. “Hi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You busy?” said Osamu. His voice had always sounded deeper on the phone. It was a low rumble in Suna’s ear, like the roll of approaching thunder. “If you are I can call a different time. Or, uh… if you don’t wanna talk that’s fine, too. Just tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna folded over to rest his elbows on the counter. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. He shouldn’t do this. He really, really shouldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna exhaled slowly and said, “No, I’m not busy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would regret this later. He knew he would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Cool.” There was a rustling from Osamu’s end of the line. He was probably holding the phone with his shoulder. Suna could picture it as clearly as if Osamu was right there in front of him. “What’re ya up to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He asked it casually, as if they had this conversation every day. They had, several years ago. They’d talked about their days and their problems and anything that popped into their heads. It had been comfortable. Osamu had been Suna’s best friend before they dated, and they’d still been best friends even when they’d started spending nights in each other’s beds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna remembered it well. He also remembered what it had felt like to lose that, and he didn’t want to feel that way again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I have to go,” said Suna. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled a fist against the kitchen counter. “Something just came up. Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” There was a brief pause. The background noise was quieter, and so was Osamu’s voice when he said, “Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A handful of phrases came to mind: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Talk to you later</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>see you soon</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll call you back</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But none of those were true, so Suna simply said, “’Bye.” He ended the call and his phone clattered against the counter. Suna sank into a crouch, his legs screaming from exhaustion, and rested his forehead against a kitchen cabinet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was so stupid. Ending the call like that was stupid, answering was stupid, and telling Osamu that his number hadn’t changed was stupid. Suna tried to remember the last time he’d made a good decision and couldn’t. It certainly hadn’t been today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The worst part was the disappointment settling into his bones. He wanted to talk to Osamu. He hadn’t known before now, until he heard Osamu’s voice on the other end of the line, but he realized it was true. He wanted to talk to him, and that was dangerous. There was a reason they hadn’t stayed friends after the breakup. Even aside from the fighting and the sharp words, Suna always knew he couldn’t be just friends with Osamu, not after what they’d gone through. There would always be something more. Suna had exchanged two sentences with him and he already felt it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rose again, and his shaky legs almost gave out. They burned from a long day of training. He needed a cold shower and an early night, but before that, he needed food. He started the microwave and leaned against the counter as he waited, wondering what Osamu was doing now. He was probably mad about Suna cutting the call short like that, after he’d offered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, Osamu wouldn’t be mad about something like that. He was more likely confused, and with good reason. Mixed signals was an understatement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe he understood. He must have. He’d been just as hurt as Suna, when they’d ended things. Which was why Suna didn’t understand how Osamu could call him out of nowhere like that, to talk about nothing in particular. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna again reminded himself that he’d started it, back at the bar. He tried to remember why he’d said that to Osamu and couldn’t. It had been a bad idea last week, and it was still a bad idea now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The microwave beeped, and Suna was so deep in thought that he nearly jumped out of his own skin. He yanked the door open and plucked his food out, burning the tips of his fingertips in the process. He hardly felt it. He was too lost in his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wished he knew what Osamu was thinking. That would solve everything. Maybe he was just being friendly, trying to stay on good terms. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe it did, and Suna wasn’t sure which option was worse. Both of them hurt in different ways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s phone rang and he nearly dropped the reheated takeout. He put it carefully onto the counter and reached for his phone. He didn’t know if he should answer Osamu again. Maybe it would be best to ignore it and hope Osamu never called back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna held his breath as he flipped the phone over to check the screen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was his mom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna sighed, half relief and half disappointment, and took the call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look terrible.” Komori said it cheerfully, as if he was commenting on the nice weather.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except it wasn’t nice weather. It was stifling, and Suna wished the sun would burn out like a busted light bulb. The back of his neck was getting closer to sunburned with each passing second and his lungs were filtering lava instead of air. He kept running, because the sooner he finished, the sooner he could collapse in the shelter of the gym and wait for spiking drills.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you sleep okay?” asked Komori. He kept up with Suna easily. He barely even seemed winded, despite the sweat dripping down the sides of his face. “I thought after that practice yesterday all of us would get a good night’s sleep. Even you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Even you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because Suna was notorious for sitting awake at all hours of the night. Not by choice; he would’ve gladly slept twelve hours at a time if given the opportunity. But his mind and his body had different ideas about how much sleep he should get, and insomnia had become the best friend he’d never wanted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I slept,” said Suna, the words a rough exhale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna sliced a glance at him and kept running.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a lot, huh?” asked Komori. They ran through the gate of the nearby park, and Komori peered around at the scenery, as if they didn’t run this exact route several times each week. “Everything okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything was not okay. Suna had spent hours lying awake and writhing in his sheets, trying and failing not to think about Osamu’s phone call. He still hadn’t figured out what Osamu’s motive was. He didn’t know if Osamu would try and call again, but Suna didn’t think so. Osamu wasn’t dumb. He must have known why Suna hadn’t wanted to talk to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Suna. He ducked the low-hanging branches of a tree that had slapped him in the face at least a dozen times over the past few months. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay then.” Komori ducked the same branches. “Better pick up the pace, so you’ll get a break before drills.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m already going as fast as I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Komori sped past, lurching several long strides ahead of him. Suna wiped the sweat off of his forehead and ran faster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Practice wasn’t as miserable as yesterday. It seemed their coach was finally forgiving them for the loss against MSBY. That, or he was worried that if he ran them any further into the ground, they wouldn’t have the energy to play the Falcons in three days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was still sore as he left the gym, but he had enough energy to walk to the corner store to pick up food since he’d eaten through his leftovers the night before. He considered cooking something, but his energy reserves wouldn’t allow it. He bought pre-packaged sashimi and a handful of snacks to replenish his empty kitchen cabinets. The cashier recognized him, and Suna thought maybe he came by the store too often.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a short walk to his apartment. Two minutes after stepping through the door he was sprawled on the couch, his bag of food discarded nearby, eyes already closed. He was exhausted, both from a sleepless night and a long day of training, and he thought he could drift off for at least a couple of hours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes later he was awake again, and the first thing on his mind was Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna huffed a curse as he sat up and stretched off the edge of the couch to retrieve his food. He wedged a bottle of water between the cushions and snapped open the box of sashimi, balancing it on his knees as he dug through the assortment of snacks for the disposable chopsticks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He and Osamu used to eat at the convenience store at least three days a week, back in high school. It had been in Hyogo, but it was still on the corner, and it had most of the same things. They’d get enough food for four people and eat through all of it at one of the back tables, joking between bites, occasionally flipping a piece of rice at each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes they held hands underneath the table, when no one was around to catch them. Sometimes they would push their chairs too close together and whisper soft words meant for only the two of them. Sometimes Osamu would walk home with Suna and they would stand in the shelter of the willow tree in his backyard and kiss where no one could see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had a piece of sashimi halfway to his mouth. He lowered it slowly, nestled it into the box between two identical pieces, and let his head fall back against the couch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d been stupid teenagers back then. It wasn’t something to dwell on. Lots of teenagers held hands and stole kisses. It didn’t make them special, didn’t mean Osamu was anything more than a high school crush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except he was. They hadn’t ended after high school, not even during Osamu’s brief move to Hiroshima to attend culinary school, not even when Suna permanently moved east to play for EJP. They’d stayed together and worked through it until the cracks in their relationship cut too deeply, until they couldn’t be patched up anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was the distance that broke them. Suna had spent a lot of time believing that. But looking back, he didn’t think that was true, not entirely. The distance was a factor, but more importantly, they hadn’t known how to deal with it. They weren’t teenagers anymore, but they’d still been young. Too young to know how to make things work. Too young to make the sacrifices that needed to be made.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wondered if things would be different now. He wondered if they would talk more and fight less, wondered what it would be to spend his free weekends in Hyogo, wondered how it would feel to have Osamu here in his apartment, in the home that he’d made for himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. They were done, had been for a long time. Suna hadn’t thought about this for years. He didn’t know how one single conversation had sent him into this spiral.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except it wasn’t the conversation, not really. It was knowing that Osamu didn’t hate him the way that Suna had expected, and maybe that was the difference. Suna had spent the last few years thinking Osamu would never willingly speak to him again, that he’d soaked that bridge in kerosene and lit a handful of matches. Whatever they’d had back then had gone up in flames.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if Osamu wasn’t holding onto a grudge, maybe…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe they could be friends again, at least. That wouldn’t be so bad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna patted his pocket, realized his phone had fallen out, and dug it out of the couch cushions. He stared at the dark screen, wavering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just a phone call. It didn’t mean anything. He talked to his friends on the phone all the time. Komori had called him that morning before practice to talk about a weird dream he’d had. Suna had called Aran a couple of days ago to taunt him about their upcoming game. A phone call was just a phone call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Except Osamu had never been just a friend, it was impossible for them to be just friends, Suna couldn’t-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna dialed the number from yesterday. He hadn’t saved it in his contacts. That felt like crossing a line somehow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought all of this was crossing a line, but he still pressed the phone against his ear. It rang in a slow purr, and tension drew Suna’s muscles tight as he waited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ringing chimed again, and again. Osamu wasn’t answering. When he saw it was Suna he’d probably tossed his phone aside. Suna couldn’t even blame him, not after he abruptly ended the call yesterday, not after the fight five years ago, not after-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” The word was almost lost amid a bustle of sound. Beyond the voice was a roar of raised voices and metallic clangs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s stomach lurched. He said, “Hey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rintarou?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hang on.” There was a louder rustle, then Osamu’s raised voice, muffled as if he had a hand over the phone. “Yo, I’m takin’ my break. Cover this order.” There was a garbled complaint that Suna couldn’t make out, then Osamu again, more clearly: “Stop your whinin’, I’m payin’ ya, ain’t I? You don’t like it, I’ll find somebody else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna smiled despite himself. During their last year of high school Atsumu had mostly dealt with the first years, but every now and then they would wear through Osamu’s patience and he would snap. It had sounded a lot like that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You think we can’t find somebody else to take your spot? You ain’t special, don’t go gettin’ comfortable. If you don’t stop bein’ lazy we’ll sub in somebody who’s not.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The call crackled into a blur of sounds that Suna couldn’t place. There was a thump like a closing door and everything went quiet. Only a hum of traffic filtered in, but it was easy to ignore; especially when Osamu spoke again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry ‘bout that. I was in the kitchen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took Suna a second too long to realize Osamu meant the restaurant. “Oh. You can get back to work. This isn’t important.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” said Osamu. “I was due for a break anyway.” There was a click, then another. Suna couldn’t place the sound until Osamu exhaled, long and slow. He must have lit a cigarette. “You alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’m fine. Listen, when you called yesterday-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t.” A car horn blared past Osamu’s voice. When it faded away he continued. “I get it. You didn’t have to call me back. I woulda left you alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stared down at the uneaten sashimi in his lap. “I didn’t know what to say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t hafta say anything, Rintarou. Hang up right now if you want. No hard feelings, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was probably what Suna should have done. It would be easier. He’d been doing just fine without Osamu in his life for the past few years. Suna didn’t need him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s work?” asked Suna. He settled back against the couch and breathed through the anxious weight in his chest. “Busy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a nightmare,” said Osamu. “Which is good for business, but bad for me. I’m dyin’ in there.” Another long exhale. “Hired some extra help but all he’s doin’ is pissin’ me off. Gonna hafta replace him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Using your angry voice didn’t work? I’m shocked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu snorted. “It did the first coupla times. Now he just thinks I’m bluffin’ when I threaten to fire him. He’s gonna be real surprised when it happens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be a good learning experience for him,” said Suna. “Maybe he’ll be less useless at his next job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or he’ll find someone who’ll put up with him. Either way he’ll be outta my face.” There was a rustling sound, probably Osamu holding the phone with his shoulder to free up his hands. After a moment he said, “What’re you doin’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing, really. Got home from training a while ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pause. It was only noticeable because Suna expected it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu said, “How’d trainin’ go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was an ache in Suna’s chest, right where Osamu had wounded him five years ago. He said, quietly, “You don’t have to ask, Osamu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I want to. Tell me about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna closed his eyes. In the back of his mind he heard, as if the voice was right beside him and not five years in the past, </span>
  <em>
    <span>All ya ever talk about is volleyball! I came all the way out here to see you and it’s trainin’ this and trainin’ that and nothin’ else. That’s all you care about anymore, Rin. It’s been weeks since you even asked how I’m doin’!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rintarou.” This Osamu was calmer than the memory. “Talk to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was hell,” said Suna. He put his uneaten sashimi aside and curled his legs onto the couch. “Coach was mad about that loss to MSBY so he’s been killing us. He’ll have to let up a little now, since there’s a match this weekend. We can’t play if we’re dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu hummed. “It’s too bad you lost to ‘Tsumu. I was pullin’ for ya. He’s more annoyin’ when he wins.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t lose to him. We lost to his team. There’s a difference.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds the same to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.” Osamu didn’t say anything else, but Suna knew he was smiling. He felt it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna took a breath and asked, a little cautiously, “Tell me about the restaurant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time the voice in his head was his own, too loud and unreasonably angry: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why would I ask how you’re doing when I already know what you’ll say? You’re stressed about the restaurant, none of the locations work, you can’t get a loan. You’re twenty years old, ‘Samu. This won’t happen. It’s not realistic. Get a job as a cook and work your way up like everybody else. You’re wasting your time and I’m sick of hearing about it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu had opened Onigiri Miya nine months after that conversation. Suna hadn’t been around to help him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” said Osamu. His voice was steady, but he was thinking about that last fight. He must have been. “Real busy, like I said. It’s good, though. Couldn’t ask for anything better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna tasted guilt on the back of his tongue, thick like blood. He wanted to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m happy for you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>You did great, ‘Samu</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. I’m really sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But he couldn’t shape any of those words, so he said nothing at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu exhaled. It could have been a sigh or a puff of cigarette smoke. He said, “Have you been okay, Rin? Don’t just say yes ‘cause it’s the right answer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna smiled a little, even as his chest ached. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Yeah, I’ve been fine. I really have. I’m on a good team now. Everything’s going great.” He pressed the phone closer against his ear. “What about you? How have you been since…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t finish the question, but he didn’t have to. Osamu knew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, all things considered,” said Osamu. Suna wondered what he looked like, if he was tied up in an apron, or maybe wearing the same hat that Suna had seen last week. “I’m in a good place now. Got everything sorted out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna nodded, although Osamu couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fell into silence. Suna wondered if he should say something, but he didn’t know what that something was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu spoke first. “I’ve gotta get back to work, but… Can we talk again sometime?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to. He really did, and that was dangerous. He thought of what they would talk about next time. He wondered if he would see Osamu again, maybe a coincidental run-in like they’d had at the bar, maybe something intentional. He wondered if that was what he wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can say no,” said Osamu, when Suna didn’t immediately answer. “No hard feelings, like I said before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna let his head fall against the back of the couch and closed his eyes against the glare of the overhead light. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we can talk again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure?” said Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m sure.” Suna hesitated, added, “I’d like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” said Osamu, his voice softer. “When’s your trainin’ usually over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Depends. We finish at least by six, even on the bad days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. I’ll call you sometime soon then, if that’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s stomach gave a weak flutter. “Yeah. That’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was good talkin’ to ya, Rintarou. Later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Bye, Osamu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The call ended, but a minute passed by before Suna lowered the phone. He put it aside, half-dazed, and reached for his discarded food. He ate in silence, not tasting anything, too caught up in his own head to pay attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered what Osamu thought about him, now that all this time had passed. He hadn’t sounded bitter, but Osamu wasn’t always open with his emotions. He could be carrying around five years of resentment on his shoulders, all of it reserved for Suna.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could have been, but Suna didn’t think he was. He wouldn’t have called yesterday, and he wouldn’t have taken the time to talk to Suna today. Even if Osamu was hiding it well, Suna thought he would have known at the bar, if Osamu was simmering in years of bitterness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Osamu wanted to talk again. He wouldn’t have said that if he hadn’t meant it. Suna knew him that well at least. Even if some things had changed since they’d been together, he knew Osamu wouldn’t pretend about something like this. Maybe Osamu really did want to catch up. Maybe he still cared about Suna just a little, despite what had happened between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna put the empty sashimi container aside and plucked his water from between the couch cushions. He rolled it between his palms, stared at nothing, and wondered if he’d just made a terrible mistake.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. you’ve been forcin’ all these hollow hearts to feel again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter's song is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4khYR7RR6A">Without Fear.</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Suna’s apartment was nothing fancy. It was in a nice part of town, but not a rich neighborhood. The appliances were mid-grade, the floors were minimally scratched, and there was a decent view of a nearby park from his bedroom window. It was nothing to brag about, for the most part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The exception was the bathroom, because unlike any other apartment he’d lived in, this one came equipped with the most luxurious bathtub he’d ever seen. It was long enough for him to lounge comfortably despite his height, and deep enough that he could submerge completely. He typically didn’t, but he liked having the option. He spent at least half of his nights soaking in nearly-scalding water and Epsom salts. Sometimes he spiced it up and threw in some bubbles, just to make it interesting. He was currently reclining with his head against the tile wall, one arm draped along the lip of the tub, the other floating at his side. He’d foregone the Epsom salts because his coach had shown the team some mercy that day, likely in preparation for their last match before mid-season break. They played the Hornets tomorrow, and if Suna survived, he could atrophy on his couch for a solid week. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought that game would be the most difficult thing he would have to face until he could enjoy his mid-season break. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was badly mistaken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s phone chirped, and he abruptly sat up out of his comfortable slouch. Water sloshed around him as he reached over the edge of the tub to fumble for his phone, which rested on the closed toilet lid. His heart was in his throat, but it settled back into his chest where it belonged when he realized it wasn’t Osamu calling. That was fine. Suna hadn’t expected to hear from him anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mostly because Suna had talked to him on the phone yesterday, and two days before that, and two days before that. It had been almost a solid month of phone calls about nothing in particular. It should have been awkward, and it had been the first couple of times, but that had passed quickly. Now they talked about the restaurant, and volleyball, and the dog Osamu’s neighbor adopted, and Suna’s sister obsessing over the newest kpop group. They talked about anything that came to mind, as long as it had happened recently. Anything five years ago seemed to be off-limits. Osamu hadn’t brought it up, and Suna didn’t want to talk about it, either. Not yet, not while they were getting along again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this wasn’t Osamu calling. This was someone similar but much worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna accepted the call on speaker and sank back into the hot water. He sighed and said, “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whataya mean, what do I want?” griped Atsumu. “Maybe I’m just callin’ to catch up with my good friend Sunarin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” said Suna. “I’m doing great, thanks for asking. ‘Bye.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t you take a break from bein’ such a dick all the time? It’s gotta be exhaustin’ after a while.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.” Suna sank a little further, until the bathwater lapped at his chin. “Can’t turn it off. What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already said, I don’t want nothin’. I’m just checkin’ in on my best and dearest friend who means the whole world to me and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Save it, ‘Tsumu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what? I take all that back. You’re the worst.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m hanging up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, wait!” There was shuffling in the background, amid a static soundtrack of traffic. “Okay, okay. I’m in town for our match and we went to a few bars and I’m way farther from the hotel than I thought. Can I crash at your place?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Catch a taxi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, it’s almost midnight. I’ll get a ride back in the mornin’. Just lemme sleep on your couch, I won’t even bother ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re bothering me right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really gonna leave me wanderin’ out on the streets in the middle of the night? I could get mugged, or kidnapped.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one will kidnap you. If they did, they’d let you go immediately.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sunarin!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna sighed, heavy enough that he hoped Atsumu heard over the phone. He slipped a little further into the water and it tickled at his bottom lip. “Fine. Do you need directions?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope, I’m coming up the stairs now,” said Atsumu, cheerful. “Be there in a minute.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The call ended and Suna completely submerged himself. His knees floated up as his head sank under the water, eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed together. He briefly considered drowning himself so he wouldn’t have to deal with Atsumu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water sloshed as he sat up again, his drenched hair sticking to his face. He wiped it away and patted blindly for his towel. He was only halfway dry when the knocking started. Suna wished he hadn’t answered the phone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took his time drying, even as the pounding on the front door became more insistent. He scrubbed the towel through his hair, draped it around his neck, and stepped into a pair of old sweatpants. He took slow, measured steps through his apartment for the sole purpose of making Atsumu wait as long as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s about time! What were you doin’? I’ve been standin’ out here forever.” Atsumu had his phone in one hand and his shoes in the other. He stepped past Suna and tossed the sneakers onto the floor. “Nice place ya got here. Shame you never invited me over before this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t invite you now,” said Suna, as he locked the door. “You invited yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You coulda said no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were literally already here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever.” Atsumu strolled into the apartment like he belonged there. He was in his team jacket, which he stripped off and tossed over the back of the couch, still juggling his phone in one hand. “Where’s your bathroom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna pointed. “If you touch my toothbrush I’ll kill you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As if I want your nasty mouth germs anyway.” Atsumu took a step away, looked down at his phone, and turned back. “Here, hold this for me. We’re not done talkin’. I’ll be back in a minute.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bathroom door slapped shut and Suna raised Atsumu’s phone, confused. A picture of Osamu was open on the screen. Suna didn’t know why Atsumu had been looking at a picture of his brother with messy hair and sleepy eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The picture of Osamu raised a hand in a wave, and Suna realized it wasn’t a picture. Atsumu had been talking to Osamu on video call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which meant Osamu could see him, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heat rushed to Suna’s face. He was shirtless, his hair was dripping wet, and he probably looked like a complete idiot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can hang up,” said Osamu. Maybe he felt Suna’s panic even across the distance, or maybe he was just being polite. “’Tsumu can call back. I didn’t know what he was doin’, sorry. He called me and just started ramblin’. Didn’t know he was goin’ to your place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna exhaled a breath and tried to calm the kick of his pulse. He’d talked to Osamu on the phone at least a dozen times in the past month. This was the same thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except Suna was half-naked and fresh out of the shower and Osamu was looking right at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hang on a minute. I need to grab a shirt.” Suna started toward his bedroom, realized the phone was still in his hand, and carefully placed it on the arm of the couch. He retreated quickly, with all of the urgency he hadn’t felt when Atsumu had pounded on the front door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wished he’d waited even longer to answer it. Atsumu deserved to spend a solid hour on his doorstep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wasn’t stupid. He knew Atsumu had done this on purpose. It was possible that Atsumu had drank a little too much and hadn’t been thinking, but Suna doubted it. Atsumu wasn’t stupid either, not when it mattered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was back a minute later, fully clothed. Atsumu was still in the bathroom, and Osamu was still on his phone screen, blinking as Suna picked him up again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t invite him,” said Suna. He’d realized with his head caught in his shirt that Osamu might think Atsumu was there because Suna wanted him there. He didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not surprised. He’s like a cockroach, just kinda shows up wherever. ‘Specially when nobody wants him there.” Osamu smiled a little. “How was trainin’ today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna thought he was fortunate that all the times they’d talked had only been on voice call. Seeing Osamu was so much worse than only hearing his voice. “It was fine,” said Suna, keeping his tone steady. “Not as bad as the last few days. Coach went easy on us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s smile pulled a little wider and Suna’s stomach flipped. “Good. You needed a break. How d’you feel about the match tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like we’re going to win, obviously. The MSBY game was a fluke. We won’t lose again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn right you won’t. When you play ‘Tsumu again you’ve gotta crush him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna huffed a laugh. He pulled his knees up on the couch and wrapped his arms around them, so he could hold the phone more comfortably. Now that he was looking for it, he spotted the tiny square in the corner of the screen, reflecting his own face back at him. He didn’t spare any attention for it. It was impossible to look away from Osamu, despite the bad lighting of what must have been his apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How was the restaurant today?” asked Suna. “Any more marriage proposals?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s eyes crinkled when he laughed. They hadn’t done that before, back when Suna had dated him. “Nah, hasn’t happened again. It wouldn’t’ve worked out anyway, she only likes me for my food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna doubted that. There were so many other reasons to like Osamu. “Using you for your cooking skills. That’s just cold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s smile went softer. “Makes for a good story, though. Who knew runnin’ a restaurant would be so entertaining.” The picture blurred as Osamu rolled over. Suna realized only then that Osamu must have been in bed, his face lit by the soft glow of an unseen lamp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s late,” said Suna. “Go to sleep, Osamu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m not tired.” It was a lie. His heavy eyes and a badly stifled yawn gave it away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have to open in the morning?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you have less than six hours before you have to be at the restaurant. Go to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Six hours is plenty. When’s the last time you got a full six hours of sleep, Rintarou?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to argue with him, but couldn’t. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for six consecutive hours. Four often, but hardly ever more than that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what I thought,” said Osamu, a little smug. A piece of dark hair fell into his eye and he flicked it away. Suna realized this was the first time he’d seen Osamu with his natural hair, unhidden by his hat. It made him look older, more mature, but still as handsome as he’d ever been. More handsome, maybe. It had been so long since Suna had seen him that the comparison was difficult. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna swallowed. “Just because I don’t sleep doesn’t mean you should pick up my bad habits. I would if I could.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.” Osamu slipped an arm beneath his pillow and readjusted the phone. “I just don’t wanna hang up. Haven’t seen you in a long time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air in Suna’s lungs was slowly ironed out until it was almost impossible for him to take a full breath. He should have made a joke to play that off, or casually changed the subject. He’d done it often enough during their phone calls, when the conversation strayed too close to dangerous territory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But something about seeing Osamu, about the softness of his eyes and the familiar curve of his jaw, broke down Suna’s conversational filter. He said, quietly, “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Course I do.” Osamu’s voice was a murmur but Suna caught every word. “I like seein’ ya, Rintarou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s chest was tight. He wasn’t sure what to say to that. The truth would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like seeing you too</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he thought that would be sharing too much of his still-raw feelings. He needed to say something safer, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s not surprising, who doesn’t want to see me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop running your mouth and go to sleep, Osamu</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s that supposed to mean, are you saying that you want to be friends or do you want to see me as something more? What are you thinking? I need to know, it’s killing me, I can’t think about anything else, it’s-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a fancy bathtub ya got, Sunarin.” Atsumu swaggered over and plopped onto the couch right beside Suna. He leaned into him to grin at Osamu on the phone screen. “Why’re you still awake? Ain’t it past your bedtime?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the one who called me,” said Osamu. Usually those words would have snapped, but they were lacking heat. Maybe he was too tired to argue. “Next time you get lost in the middle of the night call somebody else. I’m not answerin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure ya will,” said Atsumu, unbothered. “I’m your favorite brother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re my only brother, which also means you’re my least favorite.” Osamu stared into the phone, and Suna couldn’t tell which of them he was looking at. “Stop bein’ annoyin’ and let Suna get some sleep. If he don’t, kick him out, Rintarou. He’ll be fine sleepin’ on the street for one night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How dare you,” said Atsumu, but he was still grinning. “I’d get murdered or somethin’ and then you’d feel bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I wouldn’t. My life would be a whole lot quieter.” Osamu shifted and another piece of hair fell into his face. He didn’t brush it away. “G’night, Rintarou. I’ll talk to ya soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” said Suna. Atsumu was staring at him from an extremely close proximity. Suna ignored him. “Goodnight, Osamu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about me?” said Atsumu. “Tell me goodnight, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu ended the call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What a dick.” Atsumu snatched the phone back from Suna and started tapping at the screen. He was probably sending Osamu an angry text for hanging up on him. “I dunno why you ever dated him. You could do better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna slapped the phone out of his hand. “I hate you, you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the heck?” Atsumu leaned over to grab his phone out of the floor and Suna shoved him. Atsumu rolled onto the carpet with a huff. “This is assault! What’d I ever do to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna gave a half-hearted kick in his direction but Atsumu scrambled away. “You did that on purpose, asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Atsumu got his feet beneath him and stood, his phone clutched in his hand, eyeing Suna warily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you do. You called Osamu on purpose so I’d have to talk to him. You did the same thing at the bar last month. You made sure we’d both be there and didn’t tell either of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s mouth fell open in shock, but it was completely fake. Suna didn’t believe it for a second. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of somethin’ like that,” said Atsumu, faux-offended. “It’s not my fault you both showed up. That was outta my control. And I was wanderin’ around the city all by myself and wanted to talk to my brother, is that a crime now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You weren’t talking to him while you were walking around!” said Suna, exasperated. “You called me when you were already in the building. You must have called him while you were on my doorstep, you lying dirtbag!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s face scrunched. “Dirtbag? What kinda insult is that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you doing this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not doin’ anything in particular, Sunarin.” Atsumu stuffed his phone in the pocket of his sweats and folded his arms. “You two idiots have been callin’ each other for a month. That’s got nothin’ to do with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s eyes narrowed into a glare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay yeah, I knew you were gonna run into each other at the bar, alright? But it was a coincidence. Meian wanted to invite you guys out and ‘Samu always meets up with us when he’s in town for a match. It was inevitable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could’ve mentioned that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could’ve, but then you woulda both refused to go.” Atsumu rolled his eyes, as if Suna was the one being difficult. “It’s been five years, Sunarin. Get over yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wished he’d tried harder to kick Atsumu when he’d been down. “Get out of my apartment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I didja a favor, both of you. You’re welcome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stood up and Atsumu flinched a step back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was stupid that you still weren’t talkin’ to each other,” Atsumu protested. “Obviously you still get along just fine.” He made an ugly face and mocked, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>G’night, Rintarou. Talk to ya soon</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Gross.” Atsumu pretended to gag and Suna lunged for him. Atsumu ducked away and almost tripped over the corner of the couch. “C’mon, I’m bein’ nice here! You’re friends again. You guys were friends even before you started bein’ gross together. There’s no reason why you can’t still talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s none of your business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure it is. ‘Samu’s business is my business, we’re a package deal.” Atsumu plopped down on the middle of the couch, seemingly at ease, but he still eyed Suna as if prepared to dive away from another attack. “Look, I don’t care whatcha do, alright? Be friends or stop talkin’ or try and hate each other again. It’s not my problem. All I did was give you the option. ‘Samu would never talk about it, but I knew he was always thinkin’ about what happened between you. It bothered him. It was probably still botherin’ him, even after all this time. At least be on good terms. I know you never really hated him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to punch Atsumu in the face, mostly because he was right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had been furious with Osamu. He’d yelled and cried and spent weeks – </span>
  <em>
    <span>months –</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuming over what had happened. He’d laid awake for more nights than he could count, cursing Osamu or replaying their argument in his head, picking out all the worst parts and letting the words wound him all over again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he hadn’t hated Osamu, even through all of that. He didn’t think he could ever truly hate him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now if you’ll excuse me,” said Atsumu, kicking his feet up on the couch, “I’ve gotta leave town early and I need to get some sleep. Stop botherin’ me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna snatched one of the decorative pillows off the end of the couch and slapped Atsumu in the face with it. “I hate you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No ya don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got a blanket?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Suffer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s whine was more obnoxious than usual as he dragged out the word “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Suuuunarinnnn</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stormed into his bedroom, grabbed one of the spare blankets off the foot of the bed, and returned to throw it at Atsumu. He slapped off the lights and marched back, ignoring the chirp of, “G’night, Sunarin! Sweet dreams!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna kicked his bedroom door shut and stood there unmoving, his blood still too warm from arguing with Atsumu; or maybe from talking to Osamu. He huffed a breath and pushed a hand through his hair. It was still damp. He peeled back the sheets of his bed and collapsed into it, one arm curved over his head, the other flopping across his chest. He stared at nothing and thought of all the things Atsumu had said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, he thought of what Osamu had said, over and over until the words were seared into his memory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I like seein’ ya, Rintarou</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna slept, but not for a long time. He woke up before Atsumu and bid him a good morning by dumping a cup of cold water over his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>EJP won their match against the Hornets the next day. It was a close score, but Suna still thought it was the easiest game of the season so far. He didn’t want to admit it was because of all the extra training, but it probably was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The match was at their home stadium, so Suna didn’t have to worry about riding back and forth on the bus or sleeping in a hotel. He walked the twenty minutes between the stadium and his apartment, stepped inside, and collapsed onto the couch in utter relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A week. Suna had a full week before he had to show up for training again. He wondered if he could stay in his apartment without setting foot outside for the entire week. If he got delivery every day, he thought he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he’d decided at four a.m., about an hour before he’d rudely woken Atsumu, that he didn’t want to do that. He had other plans, and the thought of it twisted his insides in a tight, nervous vice. He stayed on the couch for about half an hour, trying to talk himself out of it. He almost succeeded several times, but when he finally dragged himself upright again, it was to roll his suitcase out of his bedroom. It was already packed. He’d known before the match that if he didn’t do it then, he would create a reason not to. Suna turned out all the lights, locked the door, and stood in the hallway for five solid minutes before starting toward the stairs. He lugged the suitcase down to the ground floor and walked to the train station.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was probably stupid. Maybe he was reading too much into nothing and he would come back home in a week with a ribcage full of regrets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe, but he would also regret not going, and that would be worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d made the trip many times before, but not once in the past five years. It felt longer this time, like the entire country had stretched wider. He alternated between staring out the window and staring at his phone. Evening drifted closer. He wondered if Osamu would call, even though they’d talked the night before. It would be better if he didn’t, but Suna still hoped he would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had only been a month since he’d started speaking to Osamu again. A month was nothing. Suna shouldn’t feel any differently after one month.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he was an hour from his stop, Suna’s phone rang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A month was nothing, but Suna’s heart almost leapt out of his chest when Osamu’s name flashed across the screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna sank back in his seat, waited for the overhead announcement of an upcoming stop to end, and answered the call. “Hey, Osamu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey. What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing.” Suna glanced to the side. The seat beside him was empty, and the woman in the next one over hadn’t acknowledged his existence for the entire two hours she’d been sitting there. “You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothin’ really. Takin’ my last break.” Osamu was smoking. There were no indicators, but Suna knew anyway. “It was a good match today. I watched it at the restaurant. Some of the customers were really into it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna smiled. “Did you see me almost take that spike to the face? My life flashed before my eyes. I thought it was the end for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu laughed. His voice was a little husky, maybe from the smoke. “Nah, missed that. Must’ve been cookin’. I’ll hafta rewatch it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t. It wasn’t my best moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another laugh, an exhale that was probably foggy. “I’m definitely watchin’ it. Sounds hilarious.” He paused. “As long as you didn’t actually get hurt. You didn’t, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna felt a little warm. More people had boarded at the last stop. The extra bodies must have heated up the train car. “No, I’m fine. I lost us a point when I ducked out of the way but it was better than breaking my nose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who cares, ya scored it back. You were shuttin’ out everybody. You’re playin’ real good, Rintarou. You’re probably the best middle blocker on any division one team.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wished they were talking in person so Osamu could see his eye roll. Maybe he felt it. “Shut up, Osamu. Gao with the Falcons is better than me. Probably Hyakuzawa, too. You should see him in person, it’s terrifying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu snorted. “Just ‘cause he’s big don’t mean he’s good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but he is. We lost to the Railway Warriors at the end of last season, mostly because of him. We haven’t played them this year yet. It’s our first match after break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll win,” said Osamu. He sounded confident.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, we will.” Osamu coughed quietly. “So what’re you doin’ for break? Anything special?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna frantically tried to remember the lie he’d crafted for this exact moment. Before he could offer it, another announcement blared overhead: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Passengers, please note the Central Kyoto stop coming up in ten minutes. Central Kyoto, ten minutes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna winced. That was loud, but maybe not loud enough for Osamu to hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You on a train?” said Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh. Yeah.” Suna mentally searched for the lie again. “I’m taking a trip. Visiting family for the week. Just to get out of the city.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” There was a pause. Osamu said, “It’s good you’re makin’ up with your family. That’s gotta be hard for you, after what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s face twisted into something sour. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna talked to his mom regularly and he called his younger sister once a week to check in. He hadn’t said a single word to the rest of his family since he’d graduated high school and he didn’t plan to speak to them before he died. He didn’t think they cared. They were the ones who’d disowned him first when he’d come out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you need to complain about ‘em, lemme know,” said Osamu. “I’m good at trash-talkin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna laughed, despite the bitter memories, despite the discomfort of lying to Osamu. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem. I gotta get back, but I’ll talk to ya soon. Will you text me when you get where you’re goin’? So I’ll know you made it okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna thumped his head against the train window. “Yeah. I’ll text you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They said their goodbyes and Suna clutched his phone in his hand, staring at nothing in particular. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu wanted to make sure he was safe. That could have been a friend thing, or it could’ve been something more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yesterday Osamu said he liked seeing Suna. That could be a friend thing too, but Suna had never said that to any of his friends. He tried to imagine saying it to Atsumu and cringed; but maybe that was just Atsumu. He imagined saying it to Komori instead and it still didn’t feel right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Suna was reading too far into whatever was going on between Osamu and himself. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Osamu didn’t want it to be anything more than what it was right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Suna thought Osamu was dropping hints that maybe he did want it to be something more, something like they used to have.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna checked the time. An hour and fifteen minutes until his stop in Hyogo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would find out soon, one way or another. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. maybe we’ll cry whilst hopeful when we think about the past being cruel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter's song is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ut785pfMZM">A Closeness.</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been a long time since Suna had set foot in Hyogo, but as he stepped off the train and onto the platform, it felt exactly the same. He fell in line with the queue through the station, rolling his suitcase along behind him, a nervous tingle in his stomach and his fingertips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t Suna’s hometown. He’d been born in Tokyo, and had lived there until high school. It was only then that his parents had moved to Hyogo and he’d started at Inarizaki. They’d moved partially for him, because Inarizaki had one of the best volleyball teams in the country and they’d offered him preferred admission. It was also partially because his father had gotten a good job opportunity in Hyogo, so it was the best choice for the family in general. His little sister had gone through a six month temper tantrum about moving and had never gotten over it. She’d applied exclusively to Tokyo universities and had moved back the day after she graduated high school. His parents had followed shortly after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna had thought for a while that Hyogo would always be his home, because there was something there that he couldn’t find anywhere else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That hadn’t lasted, but stepping out of the station and onto a familiar Hyogo street still felt exactly like coming home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was half past seven. His body was stiff from the rough match and the long train ride, and he checked in at the hotel to drop off his suitcase before hitting the street again. He’d never been to his destination before, but he didn’t need to check his phone to find it. He’d already studied the map at four-thirty that morning, and again on the train right around the time it passed through Yasu. He knew exactly where he was going, and a few minutes after eight, he stopped across the street from Onigiri Miya.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna had seen the restaurant online, but that was entirely different than seeing it in person. It was nice; nicer than he’d expected, and he was ashamed for thinking that. It looked newly renovated. The wide windows reflected the fading sunlight, and as he watched, a half-dozen people entered the building to get dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was exactly what Osamu had wanted and here it was, dream made reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was perfect. Suna should have never doubted him, not for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna was sweating from the summer heat, and maybe a little from anxiety. He wanted to move closer, to look inside the restaurant, to see Osamu in person instead of through a screen and hope that his intentions would be easier to read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Osamu would be happy to see him. Maybe he would sit Suna at a table and bring him a meal and say something nice like </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s good to see ya, Rin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe he would feel like Suna was an intrusion. Maybe he would want him away from this part of his life, because Suna had been given a chance to help build this and he’d thrown it away. He hadn’t believed in Osamu when it mattered. He didn’t deserve to be here, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna stared at the restaurant long enough that the sun dipped behind him. Without the glare he could see inside the windows, even from across the street. Tables were placed around the walls and a counter fitted with barstools was square in the center. There was a lot of motion, and it took several minutes for Suna to pinpoint Osamu. He was behind the counter in his hat and his apron, pacing back and forth from the kitchen door to the serving counter. It was too far for Suna to see his face, but he imagined Osamu was happy. A little stressed because the restaurant was so busy that several people were standing by the door, waiting for a seat to free up, but overall happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he would be happier if Suna went in. Maybe he would be the opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna turned away and walked back the way he came, toward his hotel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tomorrow. Suna would come back tomorrow before the dinner rush, when he would actually have a chance to talk to Osamu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t back out. He’d come all this way and he would see this through. He had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if Osamu turned him away, if he didn’t want to see him, Suna would deal with it. It wasn’t as if he was losing anything. He hadn’t had Osamu for five years and he’d been just fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if those five years would have been better with Osamu in them.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Suna didn’t sleep much, but that was nothing new. It was less disappointing at the hotel because there was a good reason for him to stay awake. It was a strange place, with strange noises occasionally leaking through the walls. No one slept well in hotels. Unlike every other night, it wasn’t just him. He dozed off here and there, flipped channels on the tv, and went downstairs at six a.m. to get a plate of hotel breakfast. It wasn’t bad. Better than what he would’ve eaten if he’d been at home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach was twisted in knots, even though he didn’t plan to go to Onigiri Miya for several more hours. He tried to remember the last time he was this nervous. Before his first division one game probably, or for his EJP tryout. That was a different sort of nervous, half anxiety and half excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was anxiety bordering on nausea, and Suna couldn’t sit in that hotel room and wait. He dressed in shorts and a thin t-shirt and left, sliding on his sunglasses as he hit the sidewalk. It wasn’t even nine yet and the heat was already brutal. It would only get worse with time, and Suna headed toward the shopping mall a few blocks over so he could aimlessly wander in the air conditioning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was fine, at first. The crowd was light considering it was an early Sunday morning, but there were enough shoppers to distract him. He walked around for a bit before settling on a bench in the middle of the atrium to watch the world go by. There was a fair amount of elderly customers hobbling around, in pairs or alone, some of them with a grandchild or two tagging along. Some middle-aged couples passed by, pointing out clothing or trinkets in shop windows. A teenage couple skipped past, hand in hand, laughing with abandon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna’s chest grew tight. He thought of when he and Osamu were teenagers strolling around the shopping mall together. At first it was to hang out as friends, but it eventually became dates. They hadn’t been as open about it as the young couple who were now giggling their way up the escalator. They’d only held hands when they were shielded by full clothing racks, and on one notable occasion they’d kissed in a dressing room, both of them flustered and red-faced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna remembered when they graduated high school and came out together. It hadn’t been easy – for Suna especially, considering his family. Osamu had a better time of it since Atsumu had blazed that trail first, but it was still uncomfortable for him. He’d never been as open as Atsumu. Suna thought of the first time they’d visited the shopping mall as an official couple, and it was a blend of nostalgia and melancholy. Osamu had reached for his hand as if it was nothing, but his fingers shook when they closed around Suna’s. They’d gotten scathing looks from a wide selection of strangers, but they took it and kept going. They were together, and at the time, that was all that mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long time, that was all that mattered. Things had changed as they’d gotten older.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, age had nothing to do with it. They’d gone their separate ways and grown apart. Suna had been so obsessed with making Division 1 that he didn’t spare time for anything else. Osamu had been caught up with culinary school until he’d dropped out – or flunked out, depending on who was telling the story – and then his single-minded determination to open his own restaurant in spite of it. They built their futures without leaving room for each other, despite all the promises they made, despite all the times they said they would be together forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d both gotten where they wanted to go, but they’d gotten there alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna rose from the bench and ambled around the shopping mall for a while longer, just to burn time, just so he could try and focus on something other than his memories or the nervous swoop of his gut every time he accidentally thought of Osamu. He thought of the times he’d been in the shopping mall with Atsumu instead; placing bets on who could eat the most mochi, racing from one end of the building to the other while security yelled at them to stop, discreetly sliding a pair of earrings into Atsumu’s pocket and loudly pointing it out when they were leaving a store so it would seem like he was shoplifting. Atsumu was annoying at the best of times, but they’d had fun together. Suna was surprised that Atsumu hadn’t stopped speaking to him after the breakup. As much as he and Osamu bickered, Atsumu had always had his brother’s back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The temperature had peaked even higher while Suna was safe in the comfort of the shopping mall. The sun baked against the back of his neck as he crossed the street and started walking, hands in his pockets and his insides twisted into knots. It was stupid to be nervous. He was an adult, they both were. This wasn’t the dumb teenage crush he’d wrestled with when he was fifteen and it had felt like his very life would end if Osamu didn’t like him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing would end, if Osamu didn’t want to see him. Nothing would change. Suna would go home, and keep living his life, and everything would be okay. There was nothing to worry about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped in the exact same spot that he’d stood in the night before, right across the street from the restaurant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Onigiri Miya</span>
  </em>
  <span> was printed on a large banner over the door. He couldn’t see through the windows because of the blinding reflection of the sun, but Osamu was inside. He must have been. He’d worked every single day that Suna had talked to him. It didn’t seem as if he took time off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna took a breath, steeled himself, and took a step into the crosswalk. The light hadn’t changed and he nearly got clipped by a passing car, so he stepped back again and waited, his pulse pounding a little faster. When the pedestrian light flashed he strode forward, crossing the street quickly. He watched the white painted lines beneath his feet until he reached the parallel sidewalk, and then he was in front of the restaurant door. He didn’t hesitate, because he feared a pause of a few seconds would drag into a minute that would stretch into five and then ten more. He yanked the door open and a puff of cool air tickled his face as he entered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was even nicer on the inside. The floors were wooden, spotless, and polished to perfection. Some of the tables were western-style, tall with matching chairs. Others were traditional, low and paired with thick pillows for sitting. The counter that took up most of the room was square, with stools lining three sides. The back of it led into the kitchen, where there was a clang of pans and a blur of motion through the open door and the cut-out window. The air smelled of food and it was absolutely divine. Suna almost forgot how stressed he was until Osamu swooped out of the kitchen with a double armful of food and passed it over to a trio of middle-aged men sitting at one side of the counter. Suna was forcefully reminded of his nerves when they kicked him in the gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu caught sight of him from the corner of his eye. “Take a seat anywhere, I’ll come ‘round to get your order.” His voice was sweet but rough, honeyed whiskey on a warm summer night. He turned away to head back toward the kitchen, and Suna knew the exact moment Osamu realized it was him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu came to a dead stop before he reached the open doorway, his shoulders stiff, spine straight. He turned slowly, expression unreadable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna wanted to move further inside and stop hovering in the doorway, but he couldn’t find the courage to do it. He was afraid Osamu would snap at him to get out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a past life Suna said: </span>
  <em>
    <span>It won't work. Get a job as a cook and work your way up like everybody else. You’re wasting your time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In a past life Osamu spat: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks a lot for believin’ in me, Rin. Really means a lot. Just say you’re done so I can go home, I’m tired of this shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In a past life Suna had been dumb enough to say: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m done, ‘Samu. I’m done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In this life, Osamu smiled and said, “Rintarou? You lost?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In this life, Suna promised himself he would never say anything cruel to Osamu ever again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna swallowed and walked through the restaurant – Osamu’s restaurant, the one he’d always wanted – and hesitated at the counter. He said, “Yeah, a little lost. I was wandering around the neighborhood and saw this place. Something about it sounded familiar, not sure why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu’s grin grew wider. His eyes crinkled at the corners in the same way Suna had noticed yesterday, when Osamu had laughed during their video call. It was better in person. “Might as well sit down, since you’re already here. I’ll getcha somethin’ to eat. Whataya want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna slid onto a stool and rested his elbows against the counter. He felt lighter, as if a weight had been sloughed off of his shoulders. “Whatever the chef recommends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll ask him, then,” said Osamu, a laugh lurking beneath the words. “I’m sure he’ll make somethin’ special for ya.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu took a few backward steps, still grinning, until he turned to enter the kitchen. He passed by the cut-out window, level with his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu was happy to see him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe this wasn’t a mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna spent the next few minutes studying the interior of the restaurant and perking up every time he caught a snatch of Osamu’s voice from the kitchen. A couple came in and Osamu swept out to get their order before retreating again, his eyes meeting Suna’s before he ducked through the doorway out of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna was still anxious, but not as badly, and for a different reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Osamu emerged again, it was with two steaming plates. He kneed open the swinging door at the back of the counter, put the food on the corner table, and jerked his head in clear instruction. Suna slipped off of his stool, and when he drew close, Osamu said, “Pick which one you want. I’ll be back in two minutes. Don’t eat without me.” Without waiting for a response he strode back behind the counter and into the kitchen again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna circled the table and dropped to his knees on the long cushion. Both plates were stacked high with an assortment of onigiri, steam coiling toward the ceiling. It looked like an ad from a magazine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu had made this. He’d made this food, and this restaurant, and this life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here ya go.” Osamu plopped down across from him and slid over a glass of water. “You started eatin’ yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not rude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’tcha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna smiled and pulled one of the plates closer. Osamu took the other. Suna said, “You don’t have to eat with me, if you have stuff to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna eat alone?” asked Osamu, one of his eyebrows rising underneath the brim of his cap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then. Dig in.” Osamu followed his own advice and plucked an onigiri off the top of his own stack. He tore a bite out of it, eyeing Suna as he reached for one, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost hot enough to burn his fingers, but not quite. There was no way to tell what flavor it would be, but Suna took a bite anyway, despite his finicky tendencies. Usually he would have refused until he had a detailed description of what he was about to put in his mouth, but usually Osamu wasn’t the one making the food. Suna trusted him, and for good reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The onigiri was the best Suna had ever had, and not just because Osamu had made it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu had cooked for Suna in the past, but not like this. It had started out as messy meals in their parents’ kitchens at three a.m., walking on tiptoes and freezing every time the pan clanked against the cooktop. That had evolved into home cooked dinners when Suna was in town, or when Osamu came out to visit. It had always been good, but basic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was different. This was professional food from a professional kitchen made by a professional chef who was currently watching Suna with quiet expectation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” said Suna, although he already knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well? How d’ya like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna took another bite and chewed slowly, just to make Osamu wait. He swallowed and said, “I’d rather not say. It’ll go straight to your ego.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu laughed and Suna’s face heated, just a little. He’d heard that laugh several times over the phone, but it was different in person. Osamu’s eyes were bright, framed by those crinkles at the corners, and his teeth were a little crooked on the bottom row, and Suna vividly remembered what kissing him had felt like. His stomach swooped and he took another bite of onigiri, just to have an excuse to look away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad you like it,” said Osamu, his smile lingering as he returned to his food. “Made this batch special, put some extra stuff in. I’ll make more if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna gestured at his heaping plate. “It’ll be a miracle if I get through all of this, Osamu. How much do you think I eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu shrugged. “I dunno. You’re an athlete. When ‘Tsumu comes over I have to order an extra shipment ‘cause he cleans the place out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s because he’s a glutton. For food and attention and literally anything else he can get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu snorted. He was still smiling. Suna tried to remember if he’d smiled this often when they’d been together, before things had started downhill. He didn’t think so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Osamu was happier now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without Suna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you said you were vistin’ family, you didn’t say it was here.” Osamu polished off the rest of his onigiri before reaching for another one. “Coulda mentioned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna took another bite to give himself time to think. He considered giving an excuse – it would be easy, he had a lifetime of experience – but that wasn’t what he was here for. He said, carefully, “I wasn’t sure if you would want to see me. It would’ve been awkward to ask over the phone, so I thought I’d just show up and see if you kicked me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last hint of Osamu’s smile faded. He brushed a few stray grains of rice off of his hands and said, “I’d never kick ya out, Rintarou. You’re welcome here anytime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured that out when you served me food,” said Suna. He tried to be wry, but his tone fell flat. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know where we stand, exactly. I still don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu tipped off his hat and laid it beside him. His hair was a mess, half flat and half sticking up, even after he ran a hand through it. “I don’t either, really.” He propped his elbows on the table to study Suna. “I’m glad we’ve been talkin’ again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Suna quietly. “Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu’s smile returned, the slightest upturn of his mouth. “I wanna keep talkin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna only realized how much tension he’d stacked up over the past few minutes when some of it began to trickle away. He nodded and said, “So do I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And whenever you’re in town, vistin’ family or whatever, it’d be nice if you stopped by. I toldja yesterday. I like seein’ ya, Rin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna wanted to ask why, because he didn’t understand. After what they’d been through, and the things he’d said to Osamu, and all that time apart, he didn’t understand why Osamu would still want to be around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t understand, but he was relieved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like seeing you, too.” Suna smiled as Osamu ran fingers through his hair again and made it worse. “Anytime you’re in town you can come by, although I don’t have a nice restaurant to invite you to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so you do think it’s nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s almost too nice. I can’t believe a Miya owns it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, I thought we were havin’ a moment. Now you ruined it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna laughed, and Osamu laughed along with him. It felt right. Easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you step out back with me for a minute?” asked Osamu as he unfolded his crossed legs and stood. “Break’s almost over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” Suna mimicked him but hesitated, eyeing his half-full plate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave it, I’ll clean it up later,” said Osamu. “Or I can box it up, if you wanna keep the leftovers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna thought of his hotel breakfast. It had been acceptable, but nowhere near the quality of Osamu’s food. “Don’t you dare throw it away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu snorted. “Fine, I’ll pack it up in a few. I’ll throw in some extra for you too, so you can try some other kinds. This way, through the kitchen. Don’t touch anything, you might get burned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna followed after him, through the swinging partition and the open doorway that led to the kitchen. There were shelves full of pans and plates and other equipment that Suna didn’t recognize. Osamu’s new cook was shaping out some onigiri, the lump large in her small hands. Her head was shaved nearly down to the skin, and when she looked at them over her shoulder, her eyeliner was sharp enough to cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be back in five, Nitta,” said Osamu as he stepped past. “Yell if you need anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded and returned to the food, unbothered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu pushed open the back door with his shoulder and held it until Suna stepped through. It brought them into the alley behind the restaurant, beside a dumpster and a spatter of graffiti shaped like an onigiri. Suna wondered if Osamu had done that himself or if the vandal had a sense of humor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hot out here,” said Osamu. He yanked his cap back on to shield his eyes from the sun and dug into his pocket. “Hot in the kitchen too, not much different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is the new cook better than the old one?” asked Suna, as Osamu thumbed at a pack of cigarettes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s amazin’. She might be better than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why the food was so good, then. It was her, not you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu grinned as he slipped a cigarette between his lips. He started to light it but stopped. “Does smoke bother you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Go ahead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu inclined his head and cupped a hand around his lighter as he flicked it to flame. He inhaled deep and pushed out a foggy breath. Suna wondered if this is where Osamu had been all the times he’d called Suna during breaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m quittin’,” said Osamu, as he tapped away some ash. “Wish I hadn’t started in the first place. It’s a stupid habit but it’s hard to stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna couldn’t relate. He’d never touched a cigarette in his life, and he was still a little surprised that Osamu had. “Don’t they have nicotine patches or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you tried them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu took another drag. His smile was sheepish. “Nah. It’s not the same. One day I’ll just put ‘em down and be done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s how it works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, prob’ly not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna leaned against the wall and folded his arms. The heat was brutal. He dreaded the walk back to the hotel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long are you stayin’ in town?” asked Osamu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until Friday,” said Suna. “I have to be back for training on Saturday morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu hummed. “Lotsa family time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna had almost forgotten that was the excuse he’d used for his trip to Hyogo. He shrugged and said, as casually as possible, “Yeah, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t know any of your family still lived out here. Thought they moved back to Tokyo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna kept his face neutral. “Most of them did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu took another smoky breath. He seemed to be waiting for Suna to elaborate, but he didn’t. “Okay then.” He crouched to snub out the cigarette against the asphalt and tossed the butt into the dumpster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like a fire hazard,” said Suna, as Osamu dusted off his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s fine.” He fidgeted with the straps of his apron, pulling them tighter. “I dunno what you’re doin’ tomorrow, but if you’re not too busy with family stuff, I’d like to take you out for dinner. Some good places have opened up the past couple of years. But if you don’t have time that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna had tried not to get his hopes up, but he really hadn’t wanted this to be the only time he saw Osamu this week. He fought back a smile and said, “Yeah, that sounds good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure? Don’t wanna take you away from family time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suna felt guilty about the lie, but not guilty enough to take it back. “I’m sure. You know how my family is. I’ll need some time away from them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Osamu grinned. “I’ll text you tomorrow. I’ll close up around eight, we can go then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu yanked the door open and waved Suna through. Suna went from the hot sun to the hot kitchen and wondered, silently but with a touch of quiet desperation, if Osamu intended tomorrow’s dinner to be a date.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. still know your heart and still know both your eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter's song is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40OAsTtdS3o">Lost</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The following morning was better; maybe because Suna had gotten a little more sleep, or maybe because his chest wasn’t caving in from the crushing fear of rejection, or maybe because he had a tall stack of onigiri for breakfast. It was just as good leftover as it had been fresh, and Suna didn’t bother descending to the ground floor to collect a plate of hotel food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lounged around for a while, eventually got dressed, and went outside around noon. The weather was sweltering, and he went into a nearby café; half to get lunch and half to get out of the heat. He stayed there for a while, scrolling through his phone and watching customers come and go. There was a park nearby and he went there afterward, sticking to the paths shaded by trees. The free time was nice. He never had much of it anymore, with his team schedule. Not having to be anywhere at all hours of the day was a relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wandered back to the hotel and spent the afternoon flipping through channels and watching the time pass by. He wanted to go by Onigiri Miya again, but he thought that would seem too clingy. He was there yesterday, and he was meeting up with Osamu again tonight. That was enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It should have been enough, at least. Suna felt like it wasn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When afternoon dwindled into evening, Suna took a shower, spent more time than was necessary under the almost-cold water to combat the heat waiting for him outside, and got dressed. He hadn’t brought any nice clothes because it was too hot for long pants, but that didn’t matter. He’d decided this wasn’t a date. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even if Osamu wanted to be friends, he didn’t want anything more. He couldn’t have; not after what happened between them. Suna was lucky Osamu was even talking to him. Expecting anything more – </span>
  <em>
    <span>hoping</span>
  </em>
  <span> for anything more – was selfish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s selfishness had ruined this the first time. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air had cooled with the onset of evening. Suna sweated only a little as he made his way to Onigiri Miya, the walk now familiar. The sun was beginning to set, and when Suna approached the restaurant, he peered through the windows. Osamu was wiping down the counter, his hat tilted back at a precarious angle. His apron had been discarded and his shirt was wrinkled where it had been cinched around his waist. He flicked the towel onto his shoulder and raised his arms in a stretch. He was broader than he’d been five years ago, mostly across his shoulders. He was identical to Atsumu in all but personality, but he’d always had a different presence. He carried a sense of composure, an unrushed confidence that Suna had always admired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna moved to open the door. It rattled but didn’t budge. Inside, Osamu’s head snapped around at the sound. He raised a hand in a wave and dipped from behind the counter, approaching with a handful of keys. He plucked one out and twisted it in the door until it clicked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, sorry. Already locked up. C’mon in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna did. The restaurant was the same as yesterday, but it felt different. Maybe it was the lack of a crowd, or the low music playing in the kitchen, or knowing that Osamu’s attention was only for him and not thirty other people.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just finished cleanin’,” said Osamu, whisking the towel off of his shoulder. “Ran a little later than I thought, sorry. You mind waitin’ while I shower?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re showering here? What, do you just spray yourself off in the sink like a dirty plate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu snorted. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Haven’t had a real shower in four years.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen and led the way behind the counter. “Goin’ upstairs. You can wait up there, if you want. It’s comfier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna glanced up at the ceiling, as if that would give him some indication of where they were going. He followed Osamu out into the alley, paused while Osamu burned through a cigarette, and was ushered through a door he hadn’t noticed the day before, on the other side of the dumpster. It gave way to a steep, unlit flight of stairs. Suna idly wondered if Osamu planned to murder him, and when he asked, Osamu’s laugh echoed in the narrow stairway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They emerged into a loft that had been converted into a living area. It was one big room, with a couch and a bed and a refrigerator all co-existing in the same space. The peaked ceiling came to a sharp point in the center, sloping lower toward the walls. The kitchenette was so small that Suna was momentarily surprised Osamu lived here, considering how often he cooked, but then he remembered the high-grade kitchen one floor below. A short stroll downstairs would give him access to all the cooking equipment a chef could ask for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be quick,” said Osamu, brushing past to dig through the wardrobe shoved against the wall by his bed. “Sit wherever you want. There’s drinks in the fridge. Don’t touch anything in the kitchen. I still remember the blender-pocalypse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was ‘Tsumu’s fault and you know it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not the story I heard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna rolled his eyes and slumped onto the couch. “Every word he says is a lie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and both of you were covered in gross smoothie chunks, not just him. It was on the ceiling, Rintarou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not our fault you bought such a high-powered blender.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s frown twitched, as if he was having difficulty keeping it. “Like I said. Don’t touch anything in the kitchen.” He disappeared through the only door in the room, toting an armful of clothes. A minute later the sound of running water started up, slightly muffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had the urge to leave his fingerprints on every piece of kitchen equipment within reach, but instead he settled back against the couch and studied Osamu’s loft. It wasn’t what he would have pictured if he’d tried to guess what Osamu’s place looked like, but now that he was here, it seemed right. Osamu had never needed anything fancy or expensive to be happy. He knew how to be content with what he had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was largely undecorated, but there was a framed photo on top of the wardrobe. Suna squinted at it, and rose to get a closer look. It was a photograph taken a month before high school graduation, in mid-February. Suna knew because he was in it. Osamu was in the middle of the frame, one arm around Suna and the other hooked uncomfortably around Atsumu’s neck. Gin was there too, face scrunched with laughter. It was after their last practice as a team; their last practice ever. They all looked happy; even Atsumu, who was winding up to punch Osamu in the ribs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>High School Suna had thought his life was so hard. Current day Suna wanted to slap some sense into his old self. He hadn’t known how good his life was back then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that it wasn’t good now. It was. He was doing great, all things considered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Great, but life was harder now. Everything was harder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Tsumu hates that picture,” said Osamu. He stepped up beside Suna, shoulder barely brushing Suna’s sleeve. He smelled clean, like citrus soap. “That’s half the reason I keep it up there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to lean into him. He didn’t. “Is it because he looks dumb? He looks like that all the time, he shouldn’t be worried about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the hair, I think,” said Osamu. “He finally realized how stupid it was. I tell ‘im all the time it’s still stupid now and he won’t listen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t judge him for his high school hair. Look at yours.” Suna gestured at the younger Osamu. His face was rounder, his shoulders were slimmer, and Suna thought he seemed much younger than eighteen. That was probably because Suna was standing beside the twenty-five-year-old version of him. Suna wondered how different he looked to Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was still better than his.” Osamu shrugged, and his shoulder nudged against Suna’s. “Anyway, I grew out of it. He didn’t, and that’s the difference. You ready to go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You touch anything in the kitchen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna grinned. “Of course not. I would never sabotage your appliances on purpose. You should be careful the next time you use the garbage disposal, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu squinted at him, and Suna laughed to himself as he followed Osamu to the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they were about a block away from Onigiri Miya, headed toward the dinner restaurant, Suna said, “I like it, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your hair,” said Suna. He watched the sidewalk instead of Osamu. “I like the new look. It suits you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Osamu’s hand moved as if he wanted to touch his hair, but he aborted the motion. He cleared his throat and said, “Thanks. ‘Tsumu says I look like a scrub.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s wrong. You look good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s smile was soft, the barest curve of his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They kept walking, and if Suna’s face was a little warm, it was from the summer heat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna thought dinner would be awkward, at least a little. He was still internally wrestling with the possibility that this was a date, and repeatedly insisting to himself that it wasn’t. This was only the third time he and Osamu had seen each other in five years, they’d ended their relationship on a terrible note, and there was no reason for them to get along as well as they used to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet that was exactly what they did, with no trace of awkwardness to be found.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazin</span>
  </em>
  <span>’.” Many things had changed about Osamu, but the expression he made while in the thrall of food-related bliss wasn’t one of them. He sighed, content, and dove in for another bite. “Nice choice on the restaurant, Rintarou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t my choice,” said Suna, mildly amused. “You sent me three restaurants to choose from and listed this one twice. I got the hint.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu grinned and said through a mouthful, “Must’ve done it by accident. My bad.” He had no manners when he ate. That hadn’t changed, either. It had been endearing at first, but right before their breakup it had become so annoying that Suna could hardly eat in the same room with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t annoying now. Suna was just glad to share a meal with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The food was nothing fancy. This place was more of an izakaya than a restaurant, and if Suna had walked past it on the street, he wouldn’t have spared it a second glance. But whoever was in the kitchen clearly knew what they were doing, and Suna thought he would’ve made a habit of coming here, if he still lived in Hyogo. He wondered if Osamu came here often, with his friends or maybe with a date. He probably did. He seemed comfortable, as if he was a frequent customer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve gotta get dessert too,” said Osamu. He wiped his mouth on his napkin instead of his sleeve, which was an improvement over his past habits. “I’d sell my soul for their parfait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean much. You’d sell your soul for anything halfway edible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Usually yeah, but this time I’m serious. You’ve gotta get one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna got one. It wasn’t the best thing he’d ever eaten in his life, but it was probably in the top ten. He didn’t say that, but somehow Osamu knew anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Toldja,” said Osamu, smug, as he tucked a spoonful of parfait between his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was half past nine when they left the restaurant. The weather had cooled down, and it was more like stepping into the middle of a desert rather than stepping onto the surface of the sun. They walked down to the corner where Osamu propped himself up against a brick building to light a cigarette. Suna caught a whiff of acrid smoke, but it wasn’t awful in the open air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to buy my food, Osamu,” said Suna for the third time since Osamu had snatched the receipt out of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.” Osamu exhaled fog.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gave me free food yesterday too,” said Suna, folding his arms. “At least let me pay you back for some of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Osamu-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let it go, Rin.” Osamu tapped a flutter of ash off the end of his cigarette. “I wanted to, alright? Next time I’m out east you can buy me dinner and we’ll be even.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t respond. He got tripped up on <i>Rin</i>, and on the suggestion that Osamu wanted to meet up with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This wasn’t a date, but maybe when he took Osamu to dinner it could be; if Osamu would even consider it, if he could ever think of Suna in that way again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna needed to stop thinking like this before he hurt himself. For all he knew, Osamu had a boyfriend or a girlfriend or partner out there somewhere, waiting for him to come over as soon as he was finished with Suna. Maybe he was committed. Maybe he was in love. Maybe Suna would never be anything more to him than a sort-of friend he’d once dated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s your family?” asked Osamu, when a minute of silence passed between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re fine.” Suna hoped Osamu wouldn’t ask any more questions, so he wouldn’t have to lie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They treatin’ you any better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna imagined how miserable he would be if he was really spending the week with his family. It wasn’t difficult or pleasant to picture. “Not really. They still think I’m trash.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu frowned. He dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and ground it out with his shoe. “If they’re bein’ mean to you-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Osamu. Really.” That was the truth, for the most part. It hadn’t been fine a few years ago, but Suna had come to terms with it. “I’d rather not talk about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Are they at least bein’ okay to you while you’re stayin’ with them?” He paused and added, “You are stayin’ with somebody, right? Not wastin’ money on a hotel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,” said Suna, watching traffic pass by so he didn’t have to look Osamu in the eye while he lied to him. “I’m not at a hotel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know if it gets rough you can stay with me, right? Couch is all yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna couldn’t believe he’d offered that so easily. He was half-tempted to accept, but he knew he shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m good. It’s only a few more nights.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you change your mind, you know where I live.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna murmured another thank you, so quietly that Osamu probably didn’t hear. They stood on the corner for a while, saying nothing as they watched the world go by. When they finally parted ways, Osamu said, “You should come by the shop again, if you have time. Tomorrow I’m makin’ minced tuna and spring onion. It’s ‘Tsumu’s favorite.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t trust his favorite of anything,” said Suna. Osamu snorted, and Suna continued, “But if you’re making it, it’s probably good anyway. I might come by for lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I hope you do. I’ll save a special one for ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna thought about that on the walk back to the hotel, his thumbs hooked into his pockets, sweat beading at the back of his neck from the heat. He could go back home anytime. He didn’t have to stay in Hyogo for his whole break, and he probably shouldn’t. It was already too much. He knew that when he left, things wouldn’t go back to normal, not for a while. He’d be too caught up thinking about Osamu, obsessing over what-ifs and maybes. It wasn’t good for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna should have packed up his things and caught a train back that night, but instead he went up to his hotel room and drifted off to the low volume of the tv.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Suna stepped outside the following day, he braced himself for the high-noon heat. He was surprised when his skin didn’t immediately feel as if it would melt off of his bones. The sky was clouded over thick and gray, and though it wasn’t raining, Suna tasted the threat of it on the air. It would almost be welcome, as miserable as the past few days had been, if he hadn’t had a thirty-minute walk ahead of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought of staying at the hotel didn’t cross Suna’s mind. He started walking, and decided if the rain caught him on the way, he could stop at a store and buy an umbrella. He could’ve brought one from home but he hadn’t even considered it. The only thing he’d considered while packing for Hyogo had been if Osamu would tell him to leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first sprinkle of rain pattered against the back of Suna’s neck when he was two blocks away from Onigiri Miya. He picked up his pace, and by the time he pushed through the door of the restaurant his hair was only a little damp, the shoulders of his shirt spattered with raindrops. It would be worse when he left, but Suna didn’t waste time thinking about that. He headed toward the counter, looking for Osamu, and found someone else instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu popped out of a crouch, a bottle of soy sauce in his hand, and glanced at Suna for only a cursory second. “I don’t work here. Somebody’ll help ya in a minute.” He pushed through the swinging partition and plopped onto one of the stools at the counter, where a stacked plate of food waited. He drizzled some soy sauce, smeared it on his fingers as he picked up perhaps the biggest onigiri had ever seen, and paused with it halfway to his mouth as he belatedly recognized Suna. His head whipped back, face contorted in confusion, and said, “Sunarin? The hell’re you doin’ here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna almost left. Not because he didn’t want to speak to Atsumu, exactly. He complained about him a lot, but he didn’t really mind Atsumu. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if someone could figure out the real reason Suna was in Hyogo, it would be Atsumu, and he’d never known how to keep a secret from his brother.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna glanced over his shoulder at the door. Maybe if he just walked out Atsumu would think he’d mistaken a stranger for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Suna had already told Osamu he would come by for lunch, and Suna didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to see him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a resigned sigh, Suna approached the counter and sat on a stool beside Atsumu. If he’d sat elsewhere, Atsumu would have shouted to him across the restaurant and everyone there would know his business, including Osamu, who must have been in the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I came to town to visit family over break,” said Suna, before Atsumu opened his mouth again. “It’s close to here so I thought I should at least see Osamu’s restaurant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu took a large bite of onigiri, his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he chewed. Much like Osamu, he’d never learned proper manners and spoke through a mouthful of rice. “Your family all lives in Tokyo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna averted his eyes. “Most of them do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, all of ‘em. You said so a couple months ago, when we were there for a match.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All of my direct family, sure. I still have cousins who live around here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu swallowed and leaned closer. He grinned as he said, “You never had cousins out here, Sunarin. It was only you and your parents and your sister. A coupla uncles, maybe, but they all moved away. You’re the only Suna in Hyogo, aren’tcha?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Atsumu-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe this.” Atsumu licked his saucy fingers clean and slung an arm around Suna’s shoulders. Suna tried to shrug him off but Atsumu clung on. “You came all the way out here to see my brother, didn’tcha? Usin’ family as an excuse, that’s cute. Is that the story you’re gonna tell him? You really think he’ll believe that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna elbowed him in the ribs, hard enough that he withdrew. “He already believes it, because it’s true.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu rubbed at his ribs, but his offended frown quickly faded. “Wait. You’ve already talked to him? How long’ve you been in town?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s none of your business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didja come as soon as break started? You musta been pretty desperate, huh? Have you confessed to him yet? What’d he say? Are you datin’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Atsumu I swear if you don’t shut up-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Rintarou.” Osamu emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a white towel. He smiled as he approached, and Suna’s heart leapt into his throat; half from the thrill of seeing him and half from the fear that Atsumu was about to ruin his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rintarou,” repeated Atsumu, side-eyeing him. “Guess you’re not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu propped his elbows on the counter in front of them. “Is ‘Tsumu givin’ you trouble? I’ll kick him out if ya want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would be great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu looked wounded. “You would not! I’m a payin’ customer, you can’t just kick me out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve never paid for nothin’ here, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu rolled his eyes. “You come in and eat until you can’t breathe and don’t offer me a single yen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m your beloved brother. Obviously you’re not gonna charge me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like I should charge you double.” Osamu plucked a piece of rice off of Atsumu’s plate and flicked it at him. “You hungry, Rintarou? I made one’a these for you, too. Didn’t even spit in it like I did ‘Tsumu’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna smiled, despite his slight Atsumu-related anxiety. “Sure. Thanks, Osamu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen, and Suna turned on Atsumu, quick and sharp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to me,” hissed Suna. “You can’t say anything to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, now ya need somethin’ from me?” said Atsumu. He took another bite and said, “Maybe you should be nicer to me then, if you’re lookin’ for a favor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna snatched a handful of Atsumu’s shirt and yanked him in closer. He lowered his voice as he said, “Atsumu, I’m serious. Don’t say anything to him about my family.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” Atsumu lowered his voice too, and Suna was grateful. “You came all the way out here just to see him. That’s peak romance, Sunarin. He’d love that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like that. You know how things went between us. I can’t just show up and pretend none of that ever happened. For all I know, he’s dating someone else and he’ll never even look at me again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s eyes went narrow. “You know you could just ask me if he’s datin’ anybody, right? Didja forget we’re brothers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna blinked at him. The thought of asking Atsumu anything about Osamu hadn’t crossed his mind, probably because he wouldn’t have trusted him to keep his mouth shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t kiddin’,” said Osamu, as he slid Suna’s plate across the counter. “I’ll really kick ‘im out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna released his grip in Atsumu’s shirt and swiveled toward Osamu. He stood with his arms folded, frowning between them. He probably thought Suna and Atsumu were really fighting. It had happened often enough over the years. “I wouldn’t complain about it,” said Suna, “but he’s not being any more annoying than usual. Which, to be fair, is really annoying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a jerk, Sunarin. I’m your best friend and you know it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit.” Suna and Osamu said it at the same time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna smiled at him, briefly, before glancing at his food. “This looks great, Osamu. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anytime. I’ve gotta go take care of the table that just came in, but I’ll be back over in a few. If you need anything, ‘Tsumu will get it for you. And if you’ve gotta beat him up, take it outside. Tryin’ to keep a good reputation here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem,” said Suna. Osamu grinned as he walked away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s so into you that it makes me sick,” said Atsumu, his nose scrunching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up. He’s being nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, which is a dead giveaway, considerin’ he’s never nice.” Atsumu stuffed more onigiri into his mouth, brushed a scatter of rice off the front of his shirt, and said, “You’re no better, moonin’ after him like that. Might as well have little hearts dancin’ in your eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stared at him. Atsumu was probably just trying to be a jerk, but what if he was right? What if Suna was being too obvious? What if Osamu could tell?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Take a breath, Sunarin. It’s not like he noticed. He’s just as stupid as you. He’s probably thinkin’ the same bullshit, like, oh it’s Sunarin, he’s so handsome, I can’t believe he’s at my restaurant. I hope he’s not still mad about somethin’ that happened five years ago and doesn’t matter anymore. Too bad he’s prob’ly datin’ someone else and I don’t have a chance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his irritation. He said, calmly, “You think I’m handsome? I’m flattered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go to hell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna dismissed him and turned to his food instead. It was definitely the biggest onigiri he’d ever seen, and even with its size, it was shaped just as perfectly as the smaller ones. The first bite was bliss, and Suna understood why it was Atsumu’s favorite. He realized he should have known Atsumu would be here. Osamu had practically told him the day before, when he’d said he was making this kind. He hadn’t said it outright, but it was implied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not, by the way,” said Atsumu, after a minute had passed and Osamu had gone back into the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Datin’ anybody.” Atsumu wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “He was, but he broke up with them about a month and a half ago.” He raised an eyebrow at Suna and said, “Isn’t that around the time you saw each other at the bar? What a coincidence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t dignify that with a response. Atsumu didn’t know what he was talking about. Whatever was happening in Osamu’s personal life had nothing to do with Suna. Nothing at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu swept out of the kitchen, balancing two plates on each arm. He delivered them with a smile, his voice low and steady even from across the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That breakup had nothing to do with Suna. Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu turned back, and when his eyes caught Suna’s, he smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…but what if it did?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Waiter!” Atsumu’s voice was more obnoxious than usual as he banged his glass against the counter. “I’m outta water, get me some more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get it yourself, scrub.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You work here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you’re not a payin’ customer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu scowled. “You’re a shitty business owner, you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your opinion hasn’t mattered to me for the past twenty-five years and it don’t matter now. Go in the kitchen and get it yourself. I know you’re scared of Nitta but she won’t hurt ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not scared of her!” Atsumu huffed as he stood and snatched his glass off of the counter. He stomped to the kitchen doorway, but hesitated before he passed through. He looked one way, then the other, and ducked inside quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s scared of her,” said Osamu, matter-of-fact. “Even if she wasn’t a good cook, I’d keep her around just ‘cause of that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the distance there was a startled yelp that sounded suspiciously like Atsumu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna grinned. “I like her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu huffed a laugh and leaned onto the counter. “So how’re things goin’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since I saw you last night?” asked Suna. “Not much has changed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu shrugged. “It could’ve. Just askin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has anything changed with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Other than ‘Tsumu showin’ up this morning to harass me for a coupla days? Nah. All the same.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna considered what Atsumu had said, about Osamu recently breaking off his relationship. Suna wondered what sort of person he’d been dating, and how long they’d been together, and if Osamu had loved them. He wondered if it really was a coincidence or if maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with him. He kind of hoped it did, and although he should have felt guilty for that selfish way of thinking, he didn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know Atsumu would be here,” said Suna. “I would’ve waited for him to leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu laughed. “Couldn’t be that lucky. He’ll be here all day botherin’ me. Every two hours he’ll decide he’s starvin’ again and make me fix him somethin’ else.” The conversation shifted, but Osamu’s smile didn’t. “I’m glad you came by again. I was hopin’ you would.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna swallowed. “Yeah, of course. Best food in town. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s smile went a little softer. He adjusted the bill of his hat and said, “You have plans for tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s heart gave a weak lurch. “Not really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu leaned more of his weight onto his forearms. It brought him a little closer. “I’ve gotta drive out to the farm early in the mornin’ to pick up a shipment. It usually gets delivered, but they’ve been slammed lately. It’s a long drive, so it’s cool if you don’t wanna go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The farm,” repeated Suna. He tried not to think too hard about why Osamu would want Suna to go along with him, especially not when his brother was in town. Atsumu was the obvious choice. “Kita’s farm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the one. He’d prob’ly be happy to see you. Only if you want, though. No hard feelings if you don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna tried to picture a long drive out in the country, the scenery flashing by beyond the windows, Osamu sitting a short reach away. It probably wasn’t a good idea. That was too much time together, too much opportunity for Suna to say something he would regret. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” said Suna, because even if it wasn’t the best idea, there was no other answer. He wouldn’t turn down a single minute with Osamu. “I’ll go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu plopped down on his stool with a full glass of water. “Where’re we goin’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> aren’t goin’ anywhere,” said Osamu. He dragged Atsumu’s empty plate over to his side of the counter. “Me and Suna are goin’ out to the farm tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Atsumu squinted between them. “You mean to Kita’s? I’m goin’, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you’re not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t stop me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure I can. There’s only room for two in the truck and Rintarou already booked his seat.” Osamu dodged the water Atsumu flicked at him. “Besides, you’re seein’ Kita tonight, aren’tcha? After you begged him to have dinner with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu scowled. “I didn’t beg him for anything. I asked him if he wanted to and he said yeah. Mind your business, ‘Samu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu shrugged, unbothered. “Whatever.” He returned his attention to Suna. “Meet me here at five?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna almost didn’t understand the question. “You mean five in the morning?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s grin pulled higher. The curve of it was wicked. “Toldja it was early. You already agreed, too late to back out now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna groaned, but it was mostly for show. He would’ve gotten up at any time of morning to see Osamu. “You’re trying to kill me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I actually don’t wanna go anymore,” said Atsumu cheerfully. “You guys have fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna kicked him in the shin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can sleep on the way there if you want,” said Osamu. “Wouldn’t recommend it though. I’m not a great driver. You might never wake up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” chirped Atsumu, “definitely don’t wanna go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna tried to kick him again but Atsumu dodged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on up to my place when you get here,” said Osamu. “The shop will be all locked up. I’ll hafta park the truck down the street. We can walk to it together.” Osamu straightened out of his slouch as a customer walked in. He smiled and said, “Glad you’re goin’ with me, Rintarou. Least I’ll have some good company.” He paced to the other end of the counter to take the new order. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stared down at his half-eaten food, very aware that his cheeks were a little warm, and even more aware that Atsumu was staring right through him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu leaned close and whispered, teasing, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Glad you’re goin’ with me, Rintarou</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna hooked a foot beneath the bar of Atsumu’s stool and yanked. Atsumu flailed out of his seat and Suna took another bite of onigiri as if nothing had happened. He ignored Atsumu’s complaints from the floor, but heard Osamu’s soft snort from the other end of the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a low growl of “You’re a dick, Sunarin,” before Suna’s stool was whisked from beneath him. He hit the floor, teeth snapping together, and Atsumu laughed loud and obnoxious in his ear. Suna shoved him, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Hyogo.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. you can run around infinite in my head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The song for this chapter is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQZ2mUMDnvE">Rome</a></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Suna was often awake at ungodly hours of the morning. His insomnia had him up at midnight, or two, or four or five. It was common, so it shouldn’t have been difficult for him to wake up at four-thirty to meet up with Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet dragging himself out of bed was like clawing his way out of an open grave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been sleeping when his alarm went off, which was rare. Even more surprising was that Suna felt he could have slept for another couple of hours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the weight of his limbs and eyelids, he splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into a set of clothes that were slightly wrinkled from the squeeze of his suitcase. He only realized when he stepped into the hotel lobby that he’d forgotten his wallet and had to go back up to his room. On any other day he might have left it, but there was no way he would survive the morning without coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped at a café halfway to Onigiri Miya and got coffee with a couple shots of espresso. He got one for Osamu too, but without the extra caffeine. Osamu liked his normal, with extra sugar and a splash of cream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He used to, anyway. Suna realized only as he knocked on the door to Osamu’s loft that maybe his preferences had changed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s footsteps were loud on the stairs - which was probably intentional, since Atsumu must have still been sleeping - and when he opened the door, he was smiling. “Wasn’t sure if you’d actually make it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I barely did. I’m still not sure I’m actually here, it might be an exhaustion-induced hallucination.” He offered Osamu the coffee and tried not to be self-conscious. “Here, I got this for you. I hope it’s right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu blinked, his eyes still a little tired but more alert than Suna’s, and took the cup. He turned it in his hand and took a small sip. His smile tipped higher. “It’s perfect. Thanks, Rin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem.” Suna took a drink of his own, just for a reason to look away. “I needed something to keep my driver awake. I’d like to get back in one piece.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu laughed under his breath and pulled the door shut behind him. He locked it and nodded toward the end of the alley. “Truck’s parked this way. Ready to go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna would have gone anywhere with him. “Yeah. Ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a short walk, made entertaining by the spectacle of Osamu juggling his coffee while trying to light a cigarette. Suna finally had mercy and held the cup for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their mode of transportation was a mid-sized, slightly rusted box truck. Suna had never even driven a normal-sized car, and he couldn’t imagine driving something of that caliber. But Osamu climbed into the driver’s seat with confidence, and as he cranked the engine to life, he said, “I’ve wrecked this truck a coupla times, but it was just from backin’ into stuff. You’re safe as long as I’m drivin’ forward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, I feel so much better,” said Suna flatly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you didn’t feel safe, you wouldn’t’ve gotten in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna pulled the seat belt over his chest and snapped it into place. “I don’t think you’ll kill me on purpose. That’s all I can say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu grinned as he pulled onto the street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna learned, during the drive, that the truck wasn’t Osamu’s. It belonged to Kita’s farm and was used for deliveries, not exclusively at Onigiri Miya. When Osamu had first opened the restaurant he’d gotten his license by necessity, as he couldn’t get a company to deliver directly to him without charging ridiculously steep fees. When he’d worked out a business agreement with Kita’s farm, everything had gotten easier. Osamu rarely had to drive out there, because usually the deliveries came to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ve been real busy lately,” said Osamu. “Gettin’ close to the end of the season.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they left the city and drove onto smaller roads through open land, Suna watched the sky go bright over the distant mountains. The landscape was beautiful. Suna had never really noticed when he’d lived there. He’d been too focused on other things: school, volleyball, family drama…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced over, at the other end of the truck’s bench seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d lit another cigarette a few minutes before. He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other elbow propped on the lip of the window, occasionally flicking ash into the wind. His hat was between them on the truck seat and his hair blew messy and free. He wore a vague smile, as if he was perfectly at peace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was, too. This was the most peaceful he’d felt in a long time. The rush of wind beyond the open windows washed out the tinny radio, the sun was coming up over the horizon, and Osamu was an easy arm’s reach away, as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to reach out and touch him, but he didn’t. He didn’t think he was allowed to do that anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for comin’ with me,” said Osamu. He tossed his cigarette out the window. “It’s a long trip alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem.” Suna tipped his coffee all the way back, tapping out the last drops. “Not like I have anything better to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu glanced at him. “That the only reason you came? You’re bored?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna licked his lips. He tasted coffee. “No. Not the only reason.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu didn’t ask him to elaborate. That was good, because Suna had no idea what he would say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I prob’ly would’ve brought ‘Tsumu if you weren’t around,” said Osamu, “so I’m real glad you are. He’s even more annoyin’ when we’re in a car together. Tries to tell me how to drive even though he’s never touched a steerin’ wheel in his life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna grinned as he pictured that. It was a miracle the twins had never crashed, considering how much bickering they must have done. “How long is he staying with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just for a coupla nights. Tomorrow he’ll go back to mom’s and stay with her until he heads out Friday.” Osamu slid another quick glance at Suna before refocusing on the road. “You’re leavin’ Friday too, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Two nights were all Suna had left. “Training starts again Saturday morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu hummed. “At least you got a break, even if it was a short one. I think you earned it.” He slowed to let an impatient car speed past. “I’m glad ya came home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Home. Suna should’ve never considered Hyogo his home. He’d only lived there for three full years during high school. Before that his life had been in Tokyo, and now it belonged to EJP. Three years was nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And still Hyogo felt more like home than anywhere ever had. Suna suspected that was more because of the people who lived there rather than Hyogo itself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Suna, so quietly that the wind washed out his voice. “Me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drive to the farm was just over an hour. It felt like half of that, maybe less. They talked the whole way, about the scenery and the restaurant and Suna’s team. Osamu asked about Suna’s family again, and Suna gracefully changed the subject so he didn’t have to lie. Suna mostly looked out the window, but sometimes he looked at Osamu instead, driving with one arm out the window and the sun glowing on his face. Eventually the paved road turned to gravel and they climbed a hill to a tall building overlooking endless rice fields. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” said Suna, as Osamu turned off the truck. “That’s a lot of rice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu snorted and pushed open the truck door. “Luckily ours is already packaged up waitin’. C’mon, Kita should be inside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna followed him out, and even more than in the city, the heat was sweltering. Suna pushed his hair back and tried not to suffocate. Gravel crunched under their feet as they approached the building and they were only halfway there when Kita emerged, a straw hat cinched at his neck and dangling near his shoulderblades. He smiled like Suna had never seen him smile when they were at Inarizaki. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Osamu!” Kita waved as he approached, his smile as bright as the sun beaming over the mountains. “Ya brought Suna-kun. It’s been a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Kita-san,” said Suna. “It’s good to see you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, too. I wasn’t expectin’ you. Didn’t know you spent time out here in Hyogo anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna glanced at Osamu. “I usually don’t. I’m just in for a visit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Visit anytime you want. Back the truck up to the loading door, Osamu. I’ve got it ready for ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gotcha,” said Osamu. He took a step away, but hesitated to grin at Suna. “You warm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wiped sweat off of his forehead. “No, I’m great. Chilly, if anything. Should’ve worn a sweater.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu huffed a laugh. He whipped the hat off of his own head and perched it on Suna’s, tugging the bill down over his eyes. “Here, at least have a little shade.” He went back to the truck, footsteps crunching, and Suna pretended that hadn’t warmed his face even more as he followed Kita to the loading door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kita rolled the metal door open as the truck roared to life. His movements were practiced, as if he’d done this a thousand times before. He was still smiling. “What do you think of the farm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna looked out across the fields again. It was easier to see with the shade of Osamu’s hat. “It’s nice. The most rice I’ve ever seen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kita nodded. “We distribute to lotsa businesses, more than any other farm in Hyogo. Osamu’s my favorite customer, of course. I’m surprised he drove all the way out here. Usually I get somebody to drop his shipment off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truck backed toward the building, slowly. Suna remembered what Osamu had said about wrecking it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you guys were really busy right now,” said Suna, sidling out of the way. “With the end of the season coming up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but we’ve got extra hires right now to cover. One of ‘em is goin’ right past Onigiri Miya in about an hour, he coulda dropped it off. Osamu wanted to come himself, though. He hasn’t been up here in a while, maybe he missed it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” agreed Suna, as the truck came to a halting stop. “Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu hopped out and unlatched the back of the truck to shove the sliding door up. He passed into the shade of the building, where a dozen large bags of rice were gathered by the door. Osamu slung one over his shoulder as if it was full of feathers. Kita hefted one too, but when Suna went to do the same, Osamu said, “You don’t hafta, Rintarou. Don’t want you to think I dragged you along for free labor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t think that, especially not after what Kita had said. Obviously Osamu hadn’t brought him along for his help. Suna wasn’t sure why Osamu had brought him at all, or why Osamu had volunteered to make the trip when he didn’t need to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna rolled his eyes and heaved a bag of rice off of the dusty floor. It was heavier than he expected, but he carried it to the truck without complaining. Osamu, already in the back, reached down to take it from him and tossed it alongside the other bags. Osamu grinned at him before he turned away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna thought maybe, just maybe, Osamu had driven out here so they’d have an excuse to spend time together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna thought about that while they loaded the rest of the bags, said goodbye to Kita, and started the trip back to Onigiri Miya. He watched Osamu from the corner of his eye and wished he knew what Osamu was thinking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Did Osamu still like him? Did Suna still have a chance, even a small one? If he asked, would it ruin this tentative friendship they’d rebuilt?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay, Rintarou?” asked Osamu, when they’d been on the road for about twenty minutes. “You’re quiet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Yeah.” Suna turned his head to watch out the window. “Just tired. Somebody made me get out of bed before dawn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can stop for more coffee on the way, if ya want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna dipped his hand out the open window and let the wind whisk between his fingers. “Yeah, that sounds good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had expected to make the trip to the farm, help Osamu unload the rice, and go back to his hotel room to waste the rest of the day. Maybe he would come back to Onigiri Miya for lunch tomorrow and see Osamu one last time before the train ride back east. That was all Suna planned, all that he could hope for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet late that evening he found himself back at the same izakaya Osamu had taken him to on Monday night, weaving through the bustle of strangers and chasing the loud, obnoxious edge of Atsumu’s voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu was tilted in his chair, head thrown back in laughter, happy and unrestrained. Osamu sat across the table from him, grinning in a way that made his eyes brighter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna thought of evenings spent together after practice, sometimes in restaurants or conbinis, most often on the floor of the Miyas’ living room. They would talk about upcoming matches or schoolwork or whatever poor, oblivious girl had written Atsumu a confession letter that week. The twins’ mom would make them dinner, or Osamu would fumble around the kitchen and throw something together. It was a mess the first few times, but over the years his food gradually got better than his mother’s. They would eat while they did their homework together, or while they watched matches, or while Suna and Osamu teamed up to tease Atsumu until he stormed off upstairs and gave them some privacy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>High school felt like a decade ago, a century, an eternity. Suna wished he could go back, just for one day, to remember how it felt to be so carefree. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu was still laughing when Suna approached the table. Suna’s first instinct was to sit beside Osamu, but he hesitated. Maybe that was too forward. Maybe that was too much like the way things had been before, when they’d all gone out and Osamu had held Suna’s hand underneath the table. Maybe Suna should be safe and sit on the opposite side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu glanced up, and when he caught Suna’s eye, his smile curved warmer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna sat beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, what’s Sunarin doin’ here?” griped Atsumu. He squinted across the table. “This is our place, ‘Samu! You can’t just invite whoever ya want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want me around?” asked Suna. “Too bad. That’s how I’ve felt about you for the past ten years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu snorted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, that’s not what I meant,” said Atsumu with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “And I know you’re lyin’, you love me. But this is our place, mine and ‘Samu’s. We only ever come here together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Osamu brought me here two nights ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s mouth fell open. “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ‘Samu?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu shrugged one shoulder, unbothered. “Rintarou picked it. I didn’t wanna tell him no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” scoffed Suna. “That’s exactly what happened.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys suck,” said Atsumu, his bottom lip poking into a pout. “Both of ya. I was at mom’s that night, you coulda invited me, too. I woulda been here in twenty minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could’ve,” agreed Suna, “if we’d wanted you here. We didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a jerk, Sunarin. I’ve been nothin’ but nice to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna raised an eyebrow. “When?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think you know how to be nice,” said Osamu. “You never learned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I didn’t, then neither did you,” snapped Atsumu. “You’re worse than I’ve ever been, ‘Samu. Only person you’ve ever been nice to in your life is Sunarin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m nice to people all day every day,” said Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, when you’re gettin’ paid. Not any other time. You’re more of a jerk than I am.” Atsumu reached for his beer, but Osamu snatched it off of the table first. Osamu tipped it back, draining it to the last drop despite Atsumu’s complaints.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The glass in front of Osamu was only water. He hadn’t ordered alcohol; probably because he’d planned to steal Atsumu’s so he didn’t have to pay for beer himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu wasn’t completely wrong. Osamu was a jerk, in some ways. He’d always been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But not to Suna. Never to Suna. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except for five years ago, but Suna had been a jerk back then, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” huffed Atsumu, as he kicked his chair back and stood. “I’m gonna get that dark beer you hate. You’ll leave it alone then.” He stomped off toward the bar and Osamu sat back, at ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That one’s my favorite,” said Osamu, his grin a little smug. “I’ve been tellin’ him I hate it for months ‘cause I knew he’d do this. It’s the most expensive one they’ve got, I’m not buyin’ it myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna laughed. “Remember when your mom always said you’d learn to be nicer to each other when you got older?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup. She still says that. It might take ‘til we’re eighty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt that,” said Suna. “You’ll still be arguing. You’ll hit Atsumu with your walker and he’ll throw his dentures at you. It’ll never end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu grinned. “Well yeah, I can’t let him get too comfortable. I was gettin’ worried for a while he had it too easy, then Sakusa joined his team. Somebody’s gotta get on his nerves when I’m not around to do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna remembered his last match against MSBY. At some point during the game, Sakusa had made a low comment to Atsumu that had snapped his temper off immediately, like flipping a switch. Suna had laughed then, and he did the same now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We already ordered food,” said Osamu. “I wasn’t sure if you were comin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Osamu had invited him that morning, after they’d unloaded all the rice and were wiping away sweat in the back alley while Osamu had huffed on a cigarette, Suna had been very noncommittal about his answer. He hadn’t wanted to seem too eager, like he’d been waiting for a chance to spend more time with Osamu, like he’d been hoping for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even if he had been. Even if that’s all he’d been thinking about since he’d gotten to Hyogo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” said Suna. “I’ll order when the server comes back around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here.” Osamu reached over him to grab at one of the menus propped against the far end of the table. His chest pressed into Suna’s shoulder, and Suna could have sworn he felt a puff of warm breath on his cheek before Osamu leaned back again and plopped the menu in front of him. “Pick whatever ya want. ‘Tsumu’s buyin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna took a deep breath and flipped open the front cover. He scanned the page without seeing it. “I don’t think he agreed to that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can guilt him into it easy. And if we can’t, I’ll buy it. Either way, pick whatever ya want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna flicked a glance at him. “You’re not buying my food again, Osamu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu shrugged as Atsumu returned to the table. “We’ll see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d think they’d be less busy on a Wednesday,” said Atsumu, plopping into his chair. He took a sip off the top of his beer and put it on the table. “Don’t these people hafta work tomorrow? Like, go home and get some sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu leaned across the table to claim Atsumu’s beer. “Let people do what they want, asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! Don’t you dare drink that, ‘Samu. I’m not kiddin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu made direct eye contact as he took the first long gulp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s eyes went narrow. “You son of a-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were interrupted by their server, who was happily oblivious to the tension. “Welcome!” she chirped at Suna, as Atsumu tried to set fire to Osamu by the force of his glare alone. “What can I get ya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna ordered, and Atsumu chimed in with a request for another drink, “Since I wasn’t lucky enough to be an only child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The server didn’t blink, simply took the order and went on her way. Clearly she’d been doing this for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu sulked for a few minutes, and then apparently decided to inflict misery on someone else instead. “So, Sunarin.” He propped his elbows on the table and gave Suna a smug, tilted smile. “How’s your family doin’? They must be pretty happy you came all this way to visit, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had an almost irresistible urge to kick him underneath the table – it wouldn’t have been the first time – but Osamu would have noticed. He tried to think of something generic to say, or the best way to deflect the conversation, but he didn’t need to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know every Suna except this one is a complete dickbag,” said Osamu, rolling his eyes as he took another drink of his stolen beer. “No offense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None taken.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t wanna talk about them.” Osamu folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “We wanna talk about your date with Kita last night since you’ve been avoidin’ the conversation all day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s face immediately went red, right across the bridge of his nose and flaring over his cheekbones. His ears were covered by hair, but Suna knew from personal experience that the tips of them were red, too. Osamu rarely blushed, but when he did, it was in the exact same way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a date,” snapped Atsumu, more sharply than was necessary. “We had dinner together. That’s it. Stop makin’ everything weird, ‘Samu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> makin’ it weird?” repeated Osamu, skeptical. “Rintarou?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s definitely the weird one here,” said Suna. He leaned onto the table too, mirroring Osamu. “Why’re you so defensive, ‘Tsumu? It’s either because it was a date, or because it wasn’t and you really wanted it to be. Which is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’re you agreein’ with him?” said Atsumu, affronted. “We’re friends, Sunarin. You’re s’posed to take my side!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna hummed. “Deflecting the question. I think it wasn’t a date and he’s embarrassed because he still has that little high school crush on Kita-san. What do you think, ‘Samu?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu glanced at him, only for a second, his stare heavy in a way Suna didn’t understand. The moment passed, and Osamu grinned as he turned back to Atsumu. “I think you’re right. Didja think you had a grown up date and get all disappointed when it wasn’t? I know you wore that obnoxious cologne you think is sexy. It fogged up the bathroom for hours. I almost choked on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu looked between the pair of them, his mouth slightly open, clearly seeking a reprieve that neither of them offered. He snatched up his drink as the server returned and took a long gulp of it, probably to buy himself some time. Food was placed in front of the twins, Suna was promised that his meal would be out shortly, and Atsumu found his voice again as the server walked away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lucky I’m a good brother,” he said, still glaring at Osamu as he snatched up his chopsticks. “I could say all kindsa stuff about the embarrassing things you’ve done on your dates, but I’m not gonna, since Sunarin’s here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu shrugged, unworried. “Say whatever ya want. Doesn’t change that you thought you were goin’ on a date with Kita when you really weren’t.” He picked up his own chopsticks, but instead of digging into his food, he offered them to Suna. “Here, have some of mine, ‘til yours gets here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t take them. “That’s okay. I can wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, here.” Osamu pressed the chopsticks into Suna’s hand. “We can share. But this means I get to share yours, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stared at him, blankly, and looked across the table. Atsumu seemed just as baffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu didn’t share food. Very rarely had he let Suna eat off of his plate when they were dating; only on special occasions, or if it was something he really thought Suna would like, and even then he’d been fidgety about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu nudged his plate closer and Suna cautiously scooped up a clump of rice. Osamu didn’t complain as Suna ate it. He didn’t even seem antsy. Suna passed the chopsticks back and Osamu took them, scraping up a much larger bite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looks good,” said Atsumu, stretching a hand across the table. “Lemme try some.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu smacked his hand so hard that Suna vicariously felt the sting of it. “You have your own, dipshit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu withdrew with a whine and cradled his hand as if the bones had been crushed into pulp. “Asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu passed his chopsticks over to Suna a few more times, until the final plate of food was delivered. Still, Osamu didn’t go far. His chair was closer to Suna’s than was entirely necessary, and every now and then he would lean in to swipe a bite of Suna’s food. Suna didn’t mind. He never had, even when they’d dated. A couple of times he picked pieces off of Osamu’s plate, just to see if the newfound tolerance was temporary, but it didn’t seem to bother Osamu at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu watched them through narrow eyes, and although he said nothing, Suna could almost hear the speculation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was amazin’,” said Osamu with a satisfied sigh as he settled back in his chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what you said the other night,” said Suna. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was amazin’ then, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think all food’s amazin’,” said Atsumu. He rolled his eyes and pushed his empty plate away. “You just like eatin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So? Food’s important. We literally need it to live. I can enjoy it if I want.” Osamu pushed back from the table and stood. “Goin’ to the bathroom. Don’t leave. Rintarou, make sure he doesn’t. He’ll try and skip out on the bill and make me pay for it. You know how he is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How dare you,” said Atsumu, offended. “I’d never do that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was lying. Suna remembered at least a dozen times he’d slipped out of a restaurant and left Osamu to pick up the tab.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep your ass in that chair ‘til I get back,” said Osamu. His glare went softer as he looked at Suna and then he turned to slip into the crowd toward the back of the izakaya. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he was gone, Atsumu started running his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, there’s a lot to talk about here. First off, he told me he hated that beer on purpose, didn’t he? Bastard.” Atsumu frowned in the direction Osamu had gone. “More importantly, why don’tcha just make out and be done with it? It’d be less awkward than watchin’ both of you trying to pretend you’re not flirtin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not flirting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not stupid, Sunarin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s arguable. I once saw you walk directly into the side of a building because you were staring at your phone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was sixteen!” snapped Atsumu. “And I was havin’ an important text conversation. That has nothin’ to do with anything. Stop changin’ the subject.” He pointed at Suna. “I know you’ve gotta leave out on Friday. If you’re gonna do somethin’, do it now. You’re runnin’ outta time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna ignored the tight, anxious feeling in his chest at the reminder. “I’m not doing anything. There’s nothing to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit.” Atsumu sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “You still like him. And yeah, you’re dumb sometimes, but not dumb enough to let somethin’ that happened five years ago stop you from bein’ happy now.” He tilted his head. “Or maybe you are. You’ve been doin’ it for a long time now. I thought you comin’ all the way out to Hyogo to see him meant somethin’ had changed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna almost argued that he wasn’t here to see Osamu, but there was no point. It would be a lie, and Atsumu would know. “It didn’t work out the first time and there’s no guarantee it won’t end the same way if we try again. I’m not risking it, and Osamu doesn’t want to, either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didja ask him that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t have to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Stupid.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The server returned, as chipper as ever, to collect their empty plates. “Can I get dessert for any of ya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A parfait,” said Suna without thinking. “Two of them.” He glanced across the table and reluctantly added, “Three, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure thing!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She drifted off into the crowd, and Atsumu was still watching him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know ‘Samu’s favorite dessert,” said Atsumu, his eyebrows rising. “What a surprise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He ordered it two nights ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop pretendin’ you don’t still like my brother,” said Atsumu. His voice was serious now, dipping lower than usual. “I’ve been tryin’ to stay out of it, but now it’s just gettin’ sad. Both of you are bein’ idiots. One of you needs to do somethin’ about it, and ‘Samu’s prob’ly scared to ‘cause he thinks he’s readin’ the signs wrong. You’re both stupid, but he’s a little stupider. It’s on you, Sunarin. Make your move. I’ll stay outta his place for a couple hours to give you some privacy, if you know what I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not doing anything.” Suna said it through his teeth. “I’m leaving this restaurant, walking back to my hotel, and going to bed. That’s it. That’s my night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From behind him came, “You’re stayin’ in a hotel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The accent was the same as Atsumu’s, but the voice wasn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s heart was a sinking ship. He looked over his shoulder to find Osamu standing behind him, brows folded, a frown cutting across his face in a way Suna hadn’t seen for a long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…oops,” said Atsumu. His smile suggested he wasn’t really sorry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said you were stayin’ with family,” said Osamu. “I asked if you were in a hotel and you said no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna pieced together a new lie, a little desperately. “I wasn’t, not then. I got into a fight with my cousin and I thought it was best to leave because-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rintarou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna released a breath and sank a little in his chair. Osamu sat beside him. Across the table, Atsumu kept his mouth shut for once in his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.” Suna stared at the tabletop instead of Osamu. He gave more truth than last time, but still not all of it. “I’ve been in the hotel the whole time. You know my family. Staying with any of them would be a trainwreck. A hotel was the safe way to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna slid a glance at him. “You would’ve felt obligated to let me stay with you. I would’ve said no, and you would’ve insisted, and it would’ve been awkward. I was saving both of us the trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu was clearly going to argue. Suna saw it in the sharp lines of his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The server appeared again, balancing three parfaits that she slid onto the table in front of them, still cheerfully unaware. “Here ya go! Need anything else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna and Osamu didn’t look up, so Atsumu said, “Nah, we’re good. Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She paced away, and Osamu slowly turned his head to look at the parfait. He didn’t go straight for it, which meant he was still bothered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you already paid for your room tonight?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Osamu, it’s not a big deal. It’s not that much. You don’t have to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about tomorrow?” said Osamu. He clearly wasn’t listening. “Have you paid for tomorrow night yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to lie, but he thought Osamu would know. He said nothing instead, and that was answer enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re checkin’ out tomorrow, then,” said Osamu. It wasn’t a question. “You’ll stay with me. I toldja already, my place is yours, anytime you need it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need it, though. I can afford the hotel, stop being so-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be at the restaurant all day,” said Osamu, turning away to pick up his spoon. “Come by whenever and I’ll give you my key. ‘Tsumu’ll be gone by noon so you won’t hafta listen to his loud ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” said Atsumu. “I’m literally just sittin’ here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Osamu.” Suna had things to say, a lot of them, but the best he could do was, “You don’t have to do this. I don’t want it to be weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu released a breath, his shoulders shifting. “It’s not gonna be weird, Rintarou. Nothin’ about it is weird. Just lemme give you a free place to sleep, alright? It’s the least I can do. I woulda let you stay all week if I’d known.” He dragged his parfait closer and dug his spoon in. He slid Suna one last glance and offered him a soft smile. “Thanks for the dessert.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s stomach gave a weak little lurch. “Yeah. No problem.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Across the table, Atsumu’s grin was obnoxious. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. and i couldn't tell you enough that i'm sorry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter's song is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nc1CXBiCjBY">For Island Fires and Family</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Suna showed up at Onigiri Miya at twelve-thirty the following afternoon; no sooner, to make sure Atsumu wouldn’t be around to taunt him, and no later because noon was his check-out time at the hotel. He dragged his suitcase inside during the middle of the lunch rush and stood out of the way, waiting for Osamu to notice him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t wait long. As soon as Osamu emerged from the kitchen, overburdened with a half dozen plates of food, his eyes caught on Suna. His smile bloomed, the smile that Suna had gotten so much of over the past few days that he feared he might overdose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was fine. Suna would shoot up that smile until it killed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One minute, Rintarou,” said Osamu, as he turned away to pass out the food. His hat was cocked too far to one side, his apron and t-shirt were smudged, and still he carried himself with the confidence of someone who had their life on exactly the right track.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had thought that about himself, too. He’d never questioned his decision to play volleyball professionally. It was the only thing he’d wanted to do, the only option he’d given himself. Not once had he considered he might be just as happy doing something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not until now, as he watched Osamu straighten his hat and laugh with his customers. Not until he saw how much Osamu </span>
  <em>
    <span>belonged</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like he’d never been anywhere else and would never need to go anywhere else again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now Suna wondered what would have happened if he’d chosen a different life: a life learning to work in a kitchen, a life cleaning the large, spotless windows of Onigiri Miya, a life of waking up to Osamu’s sleepy smile every morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here ya go, Rin.” Osamu waved a hand in the air to reclaim Suna’s attention. He tossed a keyring across the counter and Suna caught it in the air. “Go on up, make yourself at home. Come back down when you want some food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna swallowed past the lump in his throat, grabbed his suitcase, and left the restaurant. He went out the front door, because he didn’t want to wheel his suitcase through the kitchen, and circled behind the building. The door that led to Osamu’s loft was difficult to unlock, but Suna cranked the key and it finally gave. He climbed halfway up the steps, paused, and dropped onto a clumsy seat on one of the stairs. He buried his face in his hands and took a deep, hitching breath.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coming to Hyogo had been a mistake. Suna had known that from the moment he’d done it, but he hadn’t realized it would be this bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d thought, when boarding the train, that the worst-case scenario was Osamu telling him to go away. That hadn’t happened, but this was worse. It was so much worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was getting a first-hand look at what he’d thrown away, of what he could’ve had. He could’ve been here with Osamu. He could’ve helped him get Onigiri Miya running. He could’ve believed in him, and supported him, and been there with him every step of the way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead he’d been too self-centered to make sacrifices for the man he loved. He’d been too caught up in volleyball, too caught up in himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s selfishness had ruined everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes dragged by. Suna heaved himself to his feet, wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, and lugged the suitcase the rest of the way upstairs. He parked it at the end of the couch and stood there, looking around at Osamu’s apartment, at Osamu’s life. The one he’d built without Suna.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone chimed, and Suna checked the message.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Forgot to tell you, but you’re still banned from the kitchen. Don’t touch anything.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna made a choked sound that was almost a laugh. He sat on one end of the couch and typed back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too late. Hope there’s a fire extinguisher up here.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He tossed his phone to the side and slouched, resting his head on the back of the couch to stare at the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This could’ve been his place, too. It was small, even smaller than his apartment back home, and he and Osamu would have constantly been in each other’s way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But they would’ve been together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even if Suna had stayed on his current path, even if he’d still ended up with EJP, he could’ve had this; a weekend here and there, a couple of weeks off-season, every chance he got. He could’ve had this, and now he didn’t know if he ever could again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did know one thing. He knew he wanted it, badly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna waited there for a while, nothing more than a lump on the couch, watching the sun shift in the high, narrow windows. When he thought it had been an hour, maybe more, he grabbed his phone and stood. He took one last look at the loft, lingering on the framed picture on top of Osamu’s wardrobe, before descending the stairs and emerging into the back alley. He locked the door, tucked the keys into his pocket, and paced around to the front of the restaurant again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were fewer customers now that the lunch rush had died down. They were still scattered here and there, happy and comfortable. Suna sat at the far end of the counter, closest to the kitchen door, and only a minute passed before Osamu joined him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t hear the smoke alarm,” said Osamu as he propped his forearms on the counter, “so I’m hopin’ for the best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna smiled up at him. It was only a little forced. “The damage is minimal. You’ll hardly even notice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure I won’t.” Osamu’s grin was slightly higher on one side. Suna had first noticed when they were teenagers, and it hadn’t changed. “What can I get ya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chef’s choice,” said Suna. “Surprise me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it.” Osamu rapped his knuckles against the counter before slipping back into the kitchen. His voice was audible from beyond, but the words were too distant for Suna to make out. He assumed Osamu was talking to Nitta.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna thought lurking around Onigiri Miya for most of the day would be awkward, but it wasn’t. He ate lunch, stayed in the same spot at the counter, and watched the world go by. Customers came and went, and almost all of them behaved familiarly, as if they’d been there many times before. When Osamu had a few free minutes he drifted over to Suna, leaning against the counter to talk about nothing in particular. Midway through the afternoon he brought Suna a plate of samples, to get an opinion on some of the new things he was considering for the menu. All of them were delicious, and Suna told him so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Osamu started closing down the restaurant, Suna offered to help and was shot down. Instead he was tasked with walking down the street to pick up dinner. It was cheap takeout from a hole in the wall that they’d visited often as broke teenagers, but when Suna suggested it, Osamu’s eyes filled with stars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna picked up the food, marveled that the elderly business owner seemed younger, and made the walk back to Osamu’s. The door to the loft was unlocked, and Suna let himself in without knocking. He locked the door behind him, climbed the stairs, and was met with Osamu’s low, off-key humming as he yanked a t-shirt over his freshly washed hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you’d still be cleaning up,” said Suna.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu looked back at him, unsurprised by his appearance. “Usually, yeah. Nitta offered to finish up so you an’ me could have dinner. She’s gettin’ a raise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She deserves one. Not for that, just because ‘Tsumu’s afraid of her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu snorted a laugh. “It’s her best quality. Go on and sit down, I’ll grab you a drink.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no table, so they sat on opposite ends of the couch and spread the takeout boxes on the cushion between them. Osamu had placed the order, which meant they’d gotten enough food for approximately six people. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can save the leftovers,” said Osamu, when Suna made a snide comment about that. “Have ‘em later. It’s not like I’m gonna throw nothin’ away. Miyas don’t waste food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had learned that a long time ago, and he smiled at the memories.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Suna had eaten to the point of discomfort, and Osamu had continued eating for a while after that, they sealed up the containers and Osamu stored them in the refrigerator. He returned to the couch and sank down with a groan.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I might’ve ate too much,” grumbled Osamu, settling deeper into his sprawl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You say that like it’s a surprise.” Suna eyed him with a hint of judgment. “You said at least six times that you should quit and then kept on going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu glared at him, but the force of it was weak. “It was good food, Rintarou. You could’ve stopped me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna rolled his eyes. “We both know nothing can stop you once you get going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu mumbled something under his breath and leaned his head back, eyes closed. Suna watched him for a moment before turning his attention to the tv. It had been on since they’d sat down for dinner, but neither of them had spared it more than a cursory glance. It was just background noise, to prevent any awkward silences between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there should have been awkward silences; a lot of them, considering how much time they’d spent together over the past week. Things should have been strange and uncomfortable and a little bit painful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna looked at Osamu again. He was completely relaxed, the lines of his face smooth, not an ounce of tension in his shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna thought this was a little bit painful, but for a different reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’re ya lookin’ at?” asked Osamu without opening his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a big human-shaped lump where you were sitting a minute ago,” said Suna. “Just wondering what it is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu cracked an eyelid to scowl at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it cool if I use your shower?” asked Suna, already standing. “I don’t think there’s anything in there I can set on fire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t put it past ya, but sure.” Osamu sat up just far enough to look over the back of the couch. “There’s towels and stuff, use whatever you need.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Thanks.” Suna considered his suitcase and decided to drag the whole thing into the bathroom rather than digging out his clothes. He shut the door, hovered a hand over the lock, and decided against it. Osamu wouldn’t barge in on him. And even if he did, it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stripped his clothes into a pile by the door, found a towel in a small linen closet, and ran the water hot before stepping into the shower. The tile on the wall was new, but it wasn’t lined up exactly right. Suna suspected Osamu had installed it himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Suna could’ve helped him with that, if he’d been around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna dunked his head under the shower spray to try and drown out the thought. He’d tortured himself enough for one day. Dwelling on the past would only make things worse. He couldn’t change what had happened between them. It was done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could only move forward and try to do better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna used Osamu’s soap because it was his only option. He’d used hotel amenities for the past few days and hadn’t brought his own. He’d used Osamu’s shower products in the past, many times, but now it almost felt invasive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he emerged from the shower, in steam so thick it was nearly tangible, he toweled himself off and pawed through his suitcase for some clothes. If he’d been alone he would have slept in his underwear, but considering the circumstances, he yanked on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He brushed his teeth, stared at his foggy reflection in the steamed mirror, and wondered how uncomfortable sleeping in the same room as Osamu would be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s phone chimed, and he knelt to dig it out of the pocket of his discarded shorts. It was a message from Atsumu, punctuated with a winking emoji.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Use protection, Sunarin</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna slapped his phone face down on the counter and didn’t respond. During their next game he would nail Atsumu in the face with a spike. He didn’t care if it lost them a point. It would be worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pointedly did not think about Atsumu’s suggestive text as he left the bathroom, the steam dissolving into nothing as it met cooler air. Osamu was right where Suna had left him, if in a deeper slouch. The difference was that Osamu was now curled up in a nest of blankets, one of his bed pillows tucked against the arm of the couch, and Suna knew exactly what he was planning to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” said Suna flatly. He folded his arms and squinted down at Osamu, who seemed half-asleep already. “Get up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m fine right here.” Osamu yawned, more widely than was necessary. “Go on and get in bed. I changed the sheets last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sleeping in your bed, Osamu. The couch is fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it is,” agreed Osamu. “It’s great. Better than the last bed I had, which is why I don’t mind sleepin’ on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Osamu-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a guest, Rin. I’m not changin’ my mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Atsumu was a guest and I’m pretty sure he slept on the couch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well yeah, but he’s an asshole,” shrugged Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna was an asshole, too. Not in the same way Atsumu was. Worse, maybe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna dropped onto the end of the couch and pulled his knees in toward his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not sleepin’ here, Rintarou.” Osamu pushed a foot against Suna’s leg. “Get up. I’ll move ya if I have to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna swatted his ankle. “Yeah, fine. I’ll sleep in your bed. Whatever. Just… Let me sit here for a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu eyed him with a touch of suspicion, but didn’t argue. He withdrew his foot to give Suna space and turned slightly toward him, one leg on the couch and the other dangling off of the edge, some of the tiredness leaving his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tv was the only sound in the loft. If there was traffic or pedestrians outside, Suna couldn’t hear them. He looked at his knees, at the tv screen, and finally at Osamu, who stared calmly back. Suna said, “You seem happy. With… everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Osamu shifted, sitting more upright. “The restaurant is just what I wanted. Couldn’t have imagined it better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna nodded. “I’m happy for you. I really am. You deserve this, ‘Samu. You always did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu didn’t say anything. He was waiting, because he must have known Suna wasn’t finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna took a breath and kept his voice steady as he said, “I was awful to you, back then. I thought you were wasting your time. Honestly, I would’ve thought you were wasting your time doing anything, after you decided not to go pro. I didn’t understand then. I was so… I was selfish. I wasn’t thinking about you at all. I didn’t care what you wanted, or what you needed, or-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rin.” Osamu’s voice was low, gentle. “We don’t hafta talk about it. It’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not fine.” There was an edge to the words. “Nothing about it is fine. I treated you like shit. I knew this was important to you and I didn’t care. I was relieved when you dropped out of culinary school, you know that? I knew you were upset, but I thought maybe it would make you realize it wasn’t a good career for you. I thought you’d move on. I hoped you would.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s face didn’t change. “I know that already. You’ve never been good at lyin’. Not to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That sent a little spark of pain directly into Suna’s chest. “I didn’t care about anything you were doing. When you’d talk about finding a good place for the restaurant I tuned you out. I just… I don’t know what was wrong with me. I wasn’t thinking about anything but myself. I don’t understand how, after all we’d been through. And I… I loved you. I loved you so much, and I don’t… I don’t know.” Suna was staring at his knees again. It took great effort for him to raise his head and meet Osamu’s eyes. “I’m sorry, ‘Samu. I really am. It was my fault, all of it. I wish I could take it back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s frown cut deep between his brows. “Don’t be stupid, Rin.” He shoved the blankets away and pushed onto his knees, sitting back on his heels. The shift put him closer to Suna, and he reached out like he would touch him, but pulled his hand back. “We both fucked up. I was just as bad as you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you weren’t. You didn’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lemme talk.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna swallowed back the protest. His throat was tight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu sighed. His hand hovered close again, and this time it landed on Suna’s knee, gently. “The last few matches you played before we broke up. I didn’t watch any of ‘em. I had ‘Tsumu tell me the highlights so I could pretend when we talked about it, but I didn’t watch. I didn’t care. I was so sicka you talkin’ about volleyball, and your team, and… just hearin’ you talk in general, really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna winced, just slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu squeezed his knee. “Yeah, I know. It was all ‘Tsumu talked about too and I was done with it. ‘Specially because I was havin’ such a hard time with the restaurant. I spent a lotta time wonderin’ if I’d made a mistake, pickin’ food over volleyball. I thought maybe I shoulda been out there playin’ with you instead of stayin’ here, barely gettin’ by. I regretted it for a while, but I couldn’t say anything, ‘cause I’d made such a big deal outta how great this was gonna be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hurt to look at him, but Suna couldn’t turn away. He said, quietly, “I didn’t know.” Osamu had always seemed confident about his decision, even when things were hard, even when he struggled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Course ya didn’t. I was too dumb to tell you. I shoulda said I was havin’ a hard time. I shoulda said I needed you around more, ‘cause I didn’t think I could do it by myself. I needed your help, and I got mad at you for not bein’ there. Even though I already knew you couldn’t ‘cause of volleyball, and even though I was too stubborn to just ask. You couldn’t read my mind. You didn’t know what was goin’ on with me and I shouldn’t have expected you to. I got bitter for no reason. After that I was pushin’ on purpose, so you’d give me an excuse to end it. I only came out to see you that last time ‘cause I knew you were gettin’ ready to play the big end-of-season match and wouldn’t have time for me. I did it on purpose. I knew it’d turn into a fight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna remembered the fight in vivid detail. He’d replayed it so many times in his head that the sharp words would never fade. It hadn’t even hit him until later that Osamu was really gone, not until he’d checked his phone for the first time in two days to find no messages at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna dropped his eyes to Osamu’s hand, still curled over his knee. Slowly, he settled his own hand on top of it. “It doesn’t matter. The same thing would’ve happened anyway. Maybe a week later, or a month. It couldn’t have lasted. Not the way I was then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The way </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> were,” said Osamu. “You were real shitty, but so was I. It was both of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna pulled in a breath, held it, exhaled slowly. “I didn’t understand what I was losing back then.” He raised his eyes again and met Osamu’s. “If I had, I would’ve been different.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” murmured Osamu. He moved his hand, turned it over to clutch at Suna’s fingers. “Me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna threaded their fingers together and held onto Osamu’s hand like he never wanted to let go. He felt warm, and anxious, and like he might have cried if Osamu hadn’t been looking right at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for hurtin’ you, Rin.” Osamu squeezed his hand. “I’m even more sorry ‘cause I did it on purpose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna chewed at his bottom lip. “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry for everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu smiled, a little crooked, a little sad. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, after that. I was okay with it for a while. Now I’m not.” He tilted his head and dark hair fell across his forehead. “I’m glad you’re here. I hope I can see you again. Sometime soon. Real soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to see Osamu every day for the rest of his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said. His voice broke, but it was subtle, and he hoped Osamu didn’t notice. “I want to see you again, too. I missed you, ‘Samu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s gaze dipped away and then slid back. He said, “Yeah. I missed you too. A lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had more to say. He could have filled hours with regrets and apologies, but it was such a storm in his head that he couldn’t sort through it. Osamu fidgeted, as if he also had something to say, as if he couldn’t find any of the words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna said, “Thanks for letting me stay over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome here anytime, Rin. Really. Whenever you’re in town I’ll give you free food and a place to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted more than that, so much more. He could have said that. He should have. But the words didn’t feel right, so he kept them to himself. He said, “I guess I’ll go sleep in your bed and leave you here on the couch, since you insisted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu smiled. “I toldja, you’re my guest. Gotta make sure you’re comfortable.” He raised Suna’s hand, still tangled in his own, and pressed a kiss against Suna’s knuckles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s stomach cartwheeled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go to bed.” Osamu released Suna’s hand, and Suna fought the urge to snatch it back. “It’s gettin’ late. What time’s your train leave tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna barely remembered past the haze in his head. “Nine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve gotta be down early to open, so if you wake up and I’m gone, come see me before you go, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Suna. He rose from the couch slowly. “I’ll tell you goodbye first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu nodded, satisfied. He slouched back and threw the blankets over himself. “Wake me up if you need anything. Grab the light before you lay down. It’s right there. No, the other one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna flicked the switch and the room dimmed, lit only by the glow of the tv screen. Suna made his way to Osamu’s bed, peeled back the sheets, and crawled in. He looked at Osamu one last time before the tv cut off and darkness filled the room. Suna stretched out and rubbed his face against a pillow that smelled like Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“G’night, Rin,” said Osamu from the dark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to tell Osamu all the things he hadn’t been brave enough to say to his face. He wanted to tell him that this was the best week he’d had in five years. He wanted to say that he couldn’t imagine going another day without talking to him, at least on the phone, and that he didn’t know how he’d made it so long without him. He wanted to ask Osamu to come sleep beside him, because there was plenty of room, because Suna wanted to be close to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But all he said was, “Goodnight, ‘Samu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suna woke up a little before eight. It was the latest he’d slept in a long time, but it hadn’t been a full night’s sleep. He’d lied awake until the early hours of the morning, thinking and rolling around in the sheets, listening to Osamu’s quiet snores. He’d almost gotten up to stretch his legs, or to get water from the tap, or to wake Osamu up so he wouldn’t be alone. But he was afraid of the things his sleep-deprived brain might let him say, so he stayed in bed and endured the night until he finally drifted off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t feel well-rested as he climbed out of bed. He maybe felt more tired than he’d been the night before. The loft was empty, and the blankets on the couch had been left in a messy pile in Osamu’s absence. Suna knew Osamu was already downstairs, but he checked the bathroom, just in case. It was empty. There was a message on his phone, when he was dressed and thought of checking it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve got breakfast waiting for you. Give yourself time to eat before you leave.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna smiled to himself as he brushed his teeth, packed yesterday’s clothes into his suitcase, and hefted it down the stairs. He circled around and pushed through the front door of Onigiri Miya at eight-seventeen. The train station was a twenty minute walk from there. He didn’t have a lot of time to spare, but it was enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu appeared in the kitchen doorway. “There ya are! Thought I was gonna hafta go wake you up. Sit down and I’ll heat up your breakfast.” He dipped back into the kitchen without giving Suna time to argue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna rolled his suitcase behind him, unbothered by the stares of the few early morning customers, and hopped onto a stool at the counter. His first visit to the restaurant had been less than a week ago, but he was already comfortable there. He wished he could eat there every single day, and only partly for the food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here ya go,” said Osamu. He slid a plate in front of Suna. It smelled divine. “This isn’t on the menu yet. Tryin’ somethin’ new.” He checked the time, half-frowning. “Eat fast, we’ve gotta leave in fifteen to get you to the station on time. I’m gonna help Nitta finish up the onigiri for the display case and I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We?” repeated Suna, as Osamu dipped through the kitchen door. There was no answer, and Suna said, louder, “What do you mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suna discovered exactly fifteen minutes later what Osamu meant by </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You remember I used to live here, right?” said Suna, his suitcase rolling along behind him, bumping over the uneven cracks in the sidewalk. “I know how to get to the train station.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t been in town for a while.” Osamu walked with his hands in his pockets, hat pulled low over his eyes, apron left behind. “Might get lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t think it was possible to get lost, even if he’d been a complete stranger. There were signs every few intersections pointing them in the direction of the station. They passed by another one and Suna raised an eyebrow at Osamu, pointedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu ignored him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The light flashed, they crossed the street, and Suna didn’t mention it again. He had planned to walk to the station alone, but this was better. He wanted these last few minutes with Osamu to last, because he didn’t know when he would see him again. Osamu had said last night that he wanted to see Suna again, but Suna was afraid to believe it. Maybe that had just been a late-night rambling, a way to make peace. Maybe once Suna was gone, Osamu would be absolved of whatever guilt he’d carried since the breakup and he wouldn’t think of Suna again. Maybe this would be the last time Suna was this close to him, close enough to brush their shoulders together, close enough to reach out and touch his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s fingers twitched, but he kept them to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’d you sleep last night?” asked Osamu, when they were halfway there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu eyed him. “You’re a liar. I heard you rollin’ around all night. If I’d let you have the couch you woulda rolled right into the floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe if you’d let me have the couch I would’ve slept better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu snorted. “Yeah, right. You never sleep, not even in your own bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not true. I sleep great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When’s the last time you slept more than six hours in one night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna started to lie, hesitated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Osamu, “that’s what I thought.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The train station wasn’t busy that time of morning. The commuters had already come and gone. Several people drifted here and there, but it felt as if Suna and Osamu were the only ones on the platform. Suna probably would have felt that way even in the midst of a large crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With a couple minutes to spare,” said Osamu, adjusting his hat. “See? You mighta been late if you’d come by yourself. You needed a guide.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna rolled his eyes. “I would’ve been fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe.” Osamu shrugged. “I still wanted to see ya off. Might be a while before you come back. If you even wanna come back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t a question exactly. Suna didn’t need to answer, didn’t need to say anything at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I want to come back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a distant rumble, a low screech of metal on metal. Suna’s time was running out and he felt it slipping away from him, the last few grains of sand in an hourglass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu touched Suna’s arm, just above his elbow. “I toldja, anytime. You always have a place to stay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was an announcement overhead, probably about the approaching train, but Suna didn’t hear it. He was too focused on Osamu; his hand, his voice, the way he looked at Suna as if nothing bad had ever happened between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to say something, felt the words pressing against his teeth. Maybe it was another apology, because he felt he hadn’t offered nearly enough of those last night. Maybe it was a thank you for the unexpected hospitality. Maybe it was a confession, because Suna had never felt as strongly for anyone as he did for Osamu. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The train grated into the platform with a low roar. Suna heard it but didn’t see it. He didn’t see anything except for Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mere.” Osamu’s voice was low, a little rough. He pulled Suna in and wrapped both arms around his back, strong and solid. Suna stepped into him, dropping the handle of his suitcase to ball his fists into the back of Osamu’s shirt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna remembered the last time he’d visited Hyogo, a few months before the breakup. He thought it had been easier to leave back then. Now it felt impossible, like he couldn’t exist anywhere else, like his lungs would only ever want to breathe Hyogo air again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it wasn’t Hyogo. It wasn’t this city. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Osamu. It was only Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll miss ya, Rin.” Osamu mumbled close to his ear, still holding onto him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Suna dug his grip in tighter. “You too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I call you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna breathed a laugh. He rested his chin on Osamu’s shoulder, just for a moment. He had to slouch a little to do it, but that was fine. “Yeah. I hope you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s arms tightened and he turned his head, his mouth grazing Suna’s cheek, the brim of his cap bumping against Suna’s temple. He released Suna slowly and took a step back. Suna let him go. It wasn’t easy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have a safe trip back,” said Osamu. He smiled, but it wasn’t like the other smiles he’d given Suna that week. It was strained. “Will you text me when you get there? So I’ll know you made it okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah.” He tried to smile too, but couldn’t. “Yeah, I will. Goodbye, ‘Samu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Bye, Rin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna took one last look at him, grabbed his suitcase, and rolled it toward the open doors of the train. Crossing the threshold hurt deep in his chest, and he glanced over his shoulder just before the doors slid closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu waved at him, his smile a little more like himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna should have kissed him. He should have, but he’d been scared, and now it was too late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found an empty row of seats near the back of the train, shoved his suitcase against the wall, and sat by the window. The train was already in motion, so there was no sign of Osamu, but Suna could imagine him quite clearly. Maybe Osamu was already back on the street, headed toward Onigiri Miya to prepare for the lunch rush. Maybe he was still on the platform, staring after the train and thinking he should’ve kissed Suna, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wondered when they would have another chance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If</span>
  </em>
  <span> they would have another chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey there, Sunarin. Same train, huh? What a coincidence.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna flinched out of his thoughts as Atsumu plopped down beside him. “That seat’s taken.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s grin was sharp, taunting. “Nah, you were savin’ it for me, even if you didn’t know it.” He lounged back, bumping his shoulder against Suna’s. “So. How was your night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t answer. That didn’t deserve a response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m guessin’ it wasn’t as good as it coulda been, based on that awkward hug you guys just did.” Atsumu propped a foot on the back of the seat in front of them. “I got on the train without tellin’ my brother goodbye just so you could have your moment and you go and waste it like that. I’m disappointed in you, Sunarin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much do I have to pay you to not talk to me until we get to your stop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have that kinda money. Trust me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna sighed, stared out the window, and resigned himself to the longest train ride of his life.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. hold me when i'm home, keep the evenings long</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The final song is also my favorite: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0Z0S6V0VaQ">An Evening I Will Not Forget.</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A break from training was always nice, but the first few practice sessions afterward were hell. Their coach had stressed himself to the brink of an apoplectic stroke during their time away, and the first hour of training alone was enough to make Suna wish he’d stayed in Hyogo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he needed another excuse to want to be in Hyogo. He already had a good one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When their first training session ended it was with Suna on the floor, sprawled beside an equally exhausted Komori. They spent some time catching their breath, and Komori finally said, “Maybe we shouldn’t have come back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna huffed in agreement. “Now we’ve realized our mistake. We can quit the team for good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Let’s do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes passed by and Suna finally rolled himself upright to stretch. He knew both of them would be back tomorrow. Komori loved the game just as much as Suna did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first week back was torture, but the second was bearable. Their first after-break match was that weekend, and EJP won with straight sets. Their coach let them breathe a little after that, and Suna finally remembered how it felt to wake up without chronic body aches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he left training on Wednesday night, almost three weeks after break, he was refreshed rather than destroyed. The weather was finally getting cooler and the wind on his face was a relief. He hitched his bag up on his shoulder and started walking. His legs were tired but not sore, and he didn’t curse the distance between the training arena and his apartment like he’d done every day for the past three weeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere in the clutter of his bag, Suna’s phone rang. He stepped to the edge of the sidewalk to fish it out, and he was already smiling before he saw the name stamped across the screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course it was Osamu. He always called at this time every day, unless Suna called him first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, ‘Samu.” Suna merged back into the foot traffic and fell into step. “How’s it going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” Osamu’s voice was clear, without a crackle of background noise. He must have stepped into the alley for his break. “How ‘bout you? Trainin’ kill ya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope, still alive. It wasn’t bad today.” Suna hit the crosswalk just as the light changed, and he joined a small herd of people as they drifted across the street. “Has the restaurant killed you yet? You added that new stuff on the menu today, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m gonna wait ‘til Saturday. Weekend seems like a better time.” There was a brief pause, and he asked, “You home from trainin’ yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Almost. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu shrugged. Suna couldn’t see him, but he still knew. “Just wonderin’. No reason. Hey, I gotta go. I’ll talk to ya in a little bit, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The call ended, and although Suna would have overanalyzed that sudden hang-up prior to his Hyogo trip, he thought nothing of it now. Osamu had likely been pulled away from his break to handle some sort of restaurant crisis. It had nothing to do with Suna. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew, from the past few weeks of experience, that Osamu genuinely wanted to talk to him; maybe as much as Suna wanted to talk to Osamu. The daily calls – and occasional video chats – were proof enough. Their conversations weren’t as careful as they’d been before Suna had gone to visit. Back then they’d limited their topics to simple, harmless things: Onigiri Miya, Suna’s training, how their days were, what stupid new thing Atsumu had done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since Suna had gotten back, it had changed. They talked about everything, even if it was a little painful, even if it made both of them uncomfortable. Osamu told him more about starting the restaurant, about how hard it had been, about all the times he’d almost given up. Suna talked about his first tryout for Division 1, and how badly he’d ripped himself apart when he was rejected. They talked about their personal lives too, and laughed at each other’s embarrassing dating stories. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. None of it was. They got along like they’d never spent any time apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wished they hadn’t. He wished he’d had Osamu for the past five years, that all of the memories they’d created could’ve been together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he knew, objectively, that it was better this way. Back then, they’d stopped being good for each other. They were edging into toxic territory, and if they’d stayed together, things would have only gotten worse. They’d needed the time apart, to grow on their own, to learn how to be themselves without half of their identity shrouded in the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d needed it, and they’d gotten it, and Suna thought they were both better because of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He also thought they’d be even better together, now that they were older and less stupid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna climbed the stairs of his apartment building, his head full of Osamu, distantly relieved that his quads weren’t burning with every step. His phone was still in his hand, because he thought Osamu would call back. If he didn’t, Suna would try him in a couple of hours when the restaurant closed; at least to say goodnight, if nothing else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna shouldered open the door to his floor, passed a couple of apartments, and turned the corner toward his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He checked his phone, glanced up, and stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone was standing outside his apartment, waiting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first absurd thought was that it was Atsumu again, but in the middle of the week he would be home with his own team, maybe still in training. He’d sent Suna a picture of Bokuto and Hinata hopelessly tangled in a net a few hours ago. Suna knew he wasn’t in the city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna blinked, and the person straightened out of their slouch against the wall. They looked at him, and Suna’s chest clenched tight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Samu?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Rin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna stared at him. He checked over his shoulder and focused on Osamu again. His brain was spinning on empty. He asked, dumbly, “How do you know where I live?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“’Tsumu told me. Hope that’s okay.” Osamu smiled. It wasn’t the warm smile that Suna had grown familiar with in Hyogo. It was tighter, a little uncertain, and it took Suna a moment to realize why. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu was afraid Suna would turn him away. He thought Suna might tell him to leave, that Suna wouldn’t want him there, that stepping into Suna’s personal life outside of their phone calls was crossing an unspoken boundary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu was feeling the exact same way Suna had felt, walking into Onigiri Miya three weeks ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s not okay.” Suna said it with a smile of his own, small and curved. “I’m offended that you would come all the way out here to see me. How dare you, honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s grin pulled a little higher. “Sorry. I’ll just go, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, good call. Get out.” Suna shrugged his bag off of his shoulder, slung an arm around Osamu’s waist, and pulled him into an embrace. Osamu’s hands were on his shoulders, then on his back, holding him close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had spent a lot of time remembering their goodbye at the train station, wondering if he’d get to touch Osamu again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to let go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s running the restaurant?” asked Suna, the words mumbled against Osamu’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nitta. She agreed to cover for a couple days. I’m givin’ her a real good bonus.” Osamu slowly pried himself away, and Suna reluctantly let him. “Not that I expect to stay with you for a couple days. I don’t expect to stay here at all. Just wanted to come by and see ya. I can stay somewhere else, there was a nice place down the street at-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up and come inside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu grinned and it was the one Suna had missed, the one that made Osamu’s eyes crinkle at the corners. He picked up his bag and followed Suna into the apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna hadn’t cleaned up, but he didn’t care, and he knew Osamu didn’t, either. They dropped their bags by the door and Suna gestured around the apartment, offering a brief verbal tour that was entirely unnecessary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’ve seen most of it already,” said Suna. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, so he settled for sitting on the couch. Osamu mimicked him. “Over video calls, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s familiar.” Osamu gave the apartment a cursory glance before turning toward Suna. “Is it really okay I’m here? You can tell me if it’s not. No hard feelins.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, ‘Samu. It’s okay.” Suna’s voice dipped quieter. “It’s really okay. I’m glad you’re here. I…” He trailed off. He wasn’t sure how much he could say without crossing a line, without making it uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Osamu was in his apartment, had traveled hours to be there, and Suna thought they were done being careful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve wanted to see you ever since I left,” said Suna. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu smiled. It was still warm, but softer. “Yeah, me too. Thought about it every day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna wanted to touch him: his hands, his hair, his face. He wanted to wrap himself around Osamu and never let go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to talk to you.” Osamu looked down at his knees. “I don’t think it’s somethin’ I should say over the phone. Feels too important.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s instinct was to imagine the worst case scenario, to think of all the most painful things Osamu could say to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I don’t want you. I never wanted you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were fleeting thoughts, and none of them stuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna knew that wasn’t why Osamu was here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” said Suna. He picked at a loose seam at the leg of his sweatpants, his eyes never straying from Osamu. “Let’s talk, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu nodded in agreement. He started to speak, stopped, went silent again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna waited, as patiently as possible. Eventually, after several minutes passed in silence, he said, “Should I order takeout? We can talk over dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s sigh was pure relief. “Yeah. Thanks, Rin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna uncurled from the couch to grab his reliable stack of takeout menus. He tossed them into Osamu’s lap and plopped down again, waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought most of his evening would be spent waiting, but that was okay. Osamu had always been worse at conversations like this. He had to work his way up to things, because as confident and unruffled as Osamu seemed, his emotions made him particularly vulnerable. No one else seemed to notice, but Suna knew. He’d known everything about Osamu, once.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d thought so anyway. It turned out that he hadn’t known him as well as he thought, but that was okay. Suna had been so caught up in himself that he hadn’t paid attention, but that wasn’t a problem now. He’d thought about Osamu enough over the past couple of months to make up for lost time, and he didn’t think that would change anytime soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna turned on the tv to ease the pressure of the silence. He waited for Osamu to choose a restaurant, waited for the food to be dropped off at the door, waited for Osamu to wash his hands in the bathroom sink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much like they’d done in Osamu’s loft, they spread the takeout containers between them and ate on the couch, picking food out of each other’s meals. Osamu was unflinching even when Suna plucked the biggest piece of tempura out of his takeout box. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He put it back, of course. He’d only wanted to see Osamu’s reaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna gathered the leftovers and put them in the fridge, threw everything else away, and returned to the couch. He sat directly in the middle, where the cushion was still warm from their dinner. He curled one leg beneath himself, stared in the direction of the tv, and continued waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu exhaled, his shoulders sinking. He leaned back then sat forward again. He looked at Suna, the tilt of his head moving in Suna’s peripheral vision, and then away again. “Rin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna peeled his eyes away from the tv. “’Samu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu frowned. He looked down at his hands, hesitated, and looked back again. “I know we already talked about it. How shitty we were back then, and how much we messed up.” He paused, took a breath. “But I think we’re different now. Smarter. I don’t think we’ll fuck up again. Maybe we will, but… I’m willin’ to take that chance. If you are, I mean. If it’s not somethin’ you want, I get it. I wouldn’t blame ya, considerin’ the way I treated you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna settled back against the couch, his shoulder nudging Osamu’s. He reached out, skimmed a fingertip down the strong line of Osamu’s forearm, and slipped their fingers together. Osamu’s palm was warm against his, a little clammy. “It was no worse than the way I treated you. But I think we’ve forgiven each other, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” said Osamu. He squeezed Suna’s hand. “Yeah, I guess so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More silence, more waiting. Suna didn’t mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We already know it won’t be easy,” said Osamu. He leaned into Suna, just a little. “We found that out the first time. The distance is hard. But I think seein’ you when I can, and talkin’ to you on the phone, and knowin’ you’re okay out here even if I can’t be with you all the time… That’s enough for me. And I know I’m busy with the restaurant a lot, but I’ll do what I can. More than I did before. You mean a lot to me, Rin. You always have, and I really want you to be in my life again. For good this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s chest was a tight ball of emotion. It crawled up to his throat when he breathed in, squeezed it shut when he tried to speak. He swallowed, took another breath. He wanted to say something a little sarcastic, something to take the serious edge off of the conversation, to make it easier to handle. But when he found his voice, the only thing he could say was, “I still love you, ‘Samu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s hand tightened around Suna’s. His mouth was slightly open, eyes dark in the low light of the apartment. A smile slowly grew on his face. “Does that mean I don’t hafta get a hotel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna rested his forehead against Osamu’s shoulder and laughed. It felt good, almost as good as Osamu’s hand when it brushed through his hair. “Yeah. That’s what it means.” Suna raised his head and Osamu was closer, his breath on Suna’s mouth, his fingertips tracing Suna’s jaw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll do it the right way this time,” said Osamu. “All of it. I won’t mess up. I won’t lose you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll remind you that you said that,” said Suna, “the first time I get on your nerves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t have to remind me. I’ll remember.” His hand settled, palm curved at the side of Suna’s face, warm and solid. “And I bet I’ll get on your nerves first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna grinned, eased a little closer. “You’re on.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had kissed Osamu before; dozens of times, hundreds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This kiss was different, and Suna would always remember it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu’s mouth was warm, his lips dry, a little chapped. There was no urgency, or impatience, or demand. It was a kiss for the sake of kissing, just to be close, just to touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna leaned into it, tilted his head to catch a better press of Osamu’s mouth. He still had Osamu’s hand, fingers tangled together, and he didn’t let go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their lips peeled away, warm breath mixed in the air, and then they were back. Osamu’s thumb brushed over Suna’s cheekbone, and Suna flicked the tip of his tongue against Osamu’s bottom lip as he pulled away. Suna grinned, his face hot, his stomach fluttering. Osamu’s fingers danced in his hair, brushing through it gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu said, “Your hair’s too short to go behind your ear now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was thinking of growing it out.” Suna turned his head to press a kiss into Osamu’s palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter,” said Osamu. He cupped Suna’s face. “You’re gorgeous either way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna kissed him again, and this one lasted longer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much like Osamu had done during Suna’s visit, Suna insisted that Osamu sleep in the bed since he was a guest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unlike that visit, Suna chose to sleep in the bed with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stretched out beneath the sheets, one of Osamu’s legs hooked around Suna’s, Suna’s arm draped over Osamu’s waist. It was dark, but Suna knew Osamu was watching him. He saw the gleam of Osamu’s eyes in the dim light shifting through the filmy curtain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is better than when Atsumu stayed over,” said Suna into the darkness. “He hogs the blankets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu snorted, his leg hooking more securely around Suna’s. “He kicks in his sleep, too. If you’re brave enough to let him in your bed, that’s on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna laughed. “Yeah, I’ll pass. I considered killing him on the train a few weeks ago. You would’ve been an only child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t hear me complainin’.” Osamu eased a hand beneath the edge of Suna’s shirt and grazed light fingertips up and down his ribs. “I’m kinda jealous he got to sleep over before I did, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be. He was only here to shove you in my face. Literally, he shoved his phone in my face and you were on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu chuckled, low and deep. Suna felt the vibration of it. “He’s an ass, but I can’t even be mad at ‘im. If he hadn’t tricked us into goin’ to the bar at the same time we wouldn’t be here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess so. Maybe we should be nicer to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They considered, and simultaneously said, “Nah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu huffed a laugh and eased closer. His hand left Suna’s shirt and traveled to his shoulder, up the length of his neck, and gently framed his face. He leaned in for a kiss, missed, and found the corner of Suna’s mouth when he tried again. Suna kissed him back, sifting a hand through Osamu’s hair. It was a different texture than it used to be, softer and fuller. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have training tomorrow,” said Suna, when they’d settled back into stillness, “but I’ll take you out afterwards. I know some good restaurants you’d like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, but I’m buyin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna nudged a knee into Osamu’s thigh. “Shut up, ‘Samu. You basically fed me during my entire trip to Hyogo. I can at least buy you dinner.” He felt Osamu inhale and said, “Don’t argue. I’m serious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu huffed. “Fine. But when you come home again, everything’s on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not anymore. They both knew Suna would be home again, and they both knew this wouldn’t be Osamu’s last night in this apartment. There were no more </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span>s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” said Suna. “I guess that’s fair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They drifted in warm, peaceful silence. It had been a while since Suna had let anyone into his bed, and even then it hadn’t been nearly this comfortable. He wished the night would never end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When are you going back?” asked Suna, his voice a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Early Friday mornin’. Gotta be back for the lunch rush. I’d stay longer if I could, but the restaurant gets real busy on weekends. I can’t leave Nitta on her own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That only gave them one full day together. Suna wanted more, but it was okay. It was enough. Any time with Osamu was enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll walk you to the train station,” said Suna. “So you don’t get lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu breathed a laugh against Suna’s neck. “Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gradually they fell asleep, and for the first time in a long time, Suna slept until morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t pull it any tighter. I can’t breathe, Rin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna rolled his eyes and cinched up Osamu’s tie a little bit more. “That’s dramatic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a reason I don’t own a suit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, because you wear the same clothes every single day.” Suna straightened the front of Osamu’s jacket and stepped back to look at him. Osamu had been perfect before they’d left the hotel, but somewhere between there and the venue, he’d gotten rumpled. Probably because he’d spent the entire cab ride pulling at his tie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s kinda pointless to dress nice at the restaurant. I’m just gonna get dirty anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well you’re not at the restaurant, ‘Samu,” said Suna. He straightened his own tie to make sure it hadn’t gone lopsided like Osamu’s. “You’re at a banquet, and I can’t have anyone thinking my boyfriend doesn’t know how to dress. I have a reputation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A reputation,” repeated Osamu, skeptical. “Right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More importantly, you have to look better than Atsumu or he’ll never shut up about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu grinned. “Yeah, that’s more like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on.” Suna took Osamu’s hand and fitted their fingers together. It was easy, practiced. “We’re fashionably late, but if we wait any longer we’ll seem like we don’t care. And we don’t, but coach will make my life miserable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu released a long, heavy breath. “Right. Yeah. Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna squeezed Osamu’s hand and led him toward the wide glass doors. Osamu hadn’t said he was nervous, but he didn’t have to. Suna had been to these Division 1 banquets every year since he’d joined EJP, but Osamu had never gotten dragged to an event like this. Suna almost hadn’t invited him at all, because he didn’t want Osamu to be uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted Osamu to go with him, so he’d given in and invited him anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The banquet hall was as needlessly fancy as usual, with crisp white tablecloths and gleaming dishware and intricately folded cloth napkins. It wasn’t Suna’s scene, but it wasn’t as if he had a choice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a large crowd, which was expected. Every Division 1 team voyaged to Tokyo each year to attend the banquet, whether they liked it or not. Suna recognized most of the faces, and offered polite hellos to some of them as he passed by. For the most part he slipped through the crowd unnoticed, pulling Osamu along after him, until he found the cluster of tables reserved for EJP. The seating arrangements weren’t structured, and Suna decidedly avoided the table where his coach sat; partly because he didn’t make the best company, and partly because Suna knew he would be on the receiving end of some very judgmental glares when coach realized Suna had brought Osamu as his plus one. It wouldn’t be a surprise, exactly. Two years ago, Suna had been accompanied by his boyfriend of the time. His coach hadn’t taken that well, either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna had decided not to care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Suna. Hey, Osamu.” Komori smiled up at them as they sat. Of course he was already there. Komori was unfailingly prompt; he’d probably been the first of their team to arrive. “You both look nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” said Suna. Osamu mumbled something similar under his breath. “So do you. Nice suit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me.” A woman with a clipboard ducked down to speak to them. “Miya-san, MSBY is seated over there, near the fountain. Would you like me to show you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Osamu had time to say something rude – it was inevitable, Suna knew him too well – Suna said, “Wrong Miya. Atsumu is running late, his cab popped a tire. He’ll be here soon and he’ll make a scene when he comes in. You won’t miss him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman blinked at him, eyed Osamu again, and quietly retreated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Komori discreetly covered a laugh. “How many times do you think that’ll happen tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have a running bet,” said Suna. He leaned over as a server swooped in to fill their glasses with water. “I’ll let you know who wins.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>To Suna’s dismay, Atsumu won the bet. It was especially disappointing because he’d been told repeatedly that it was between Suna and Osamu only, and Atsumu had stubbornly included himself anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nineteen people,” grinned Atsumu, raising a glass to toast himself. “Nineteen people thought you were me. That’s gotta be embarrassin’ for you, huh, ‘Samu?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometime during the night, after the third course of the meal and the round of speeches by select coaches, the boundaries between team tables had wavered. Suna and Osamu had drifted to the MSBY table, which had been placed in a far corner. Suna thought that was strategic. Everyone in the league knew the Jackals were loud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be more embarrassin’ for you,” shrugged Osamu. “Now everybody’s gonna think you’re ugly, since they’ve seen the better lookin’ twin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Across the table, Bokuto cackled. “Good one, Myaa-sam!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut it!” snapped Atsumu. “That’s not funny. Obviously I’m hotter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I disagree,” said Suna.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your vote don’t count, Sunarin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It really doesn’t count as your win, anyway,” said Suna. He reached for Osamu’s hand under the table. “The bet was how many people </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> Osamu is you. You’re only counting the people who talked to him. There were at least twenty more who kept staring at him, so technically I should win.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way. I won fair and square. You’re a sore loser, Sunarin, we all know it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that was true. Suna was a sore loser at the best of times, but even he couldn’t be mad about this loss. He couldn’t be mad about much of anything with Osamu around, close enough that their knees knocked together when either of them moved. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no prize anyway,” said Osamu, “so I dunno what you’re so worried about. You sound dumb, ‘Tsumu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause you lost! You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>losers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, both of ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re losers?” repeated Suna. He leaned forward and pointedly looked around the table. “Let’s ask your date what they think about that. Oh, wait. You don’t have one. Didn’t anybody want to come with you, ‘Tsumu? Is it because you’re a loser?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto laughed again, and Atsumu looked like he was weighing the pros and cons of throwing his wine in Suna’s face. He compromised by draining the rest of it and slapping the glass onto the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just ‘cause the two of you are all cozy and gross doesn’t mean everybody’s gotta be. I’m just fine on my own. Right, Bokkun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right!” chirped Bokuto. “We’re just fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a date,” said Suna, pointing. “Right over there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto’s grin dimmed. “Well yeah, but I didn’t want Tsum-Tsum to feel left out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna and Osamu laughed, and Atsumu swiped Bokuto’s wine. “I don’t need your pity, Bokkun. I could have any date I wanted. I just didn’t want one.” He took a gulp of wine and glared at all of them, as if daring anyone to disagree.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have fun here on your own, then,” said Suna. He pushed his chair back and stood. “My date and I are sneaking out the back door so coach doesn’t chew my ass for leaving early. Again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine! You shouldn’t be over here at our table anyway.” Atsumu took another drink of wine. “We’re too cool for you. Right, Bokkun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys can stay if you want! I like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bokkun!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, but ‘Samu needs more sleep than a normal person and we have to get up early tomorrow.” Suna pushed his chair underneath the table and Osamu did the same. “See you later, Bokuto. Unfortunately I’ll see you soon, ‘Tsumu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.” Atsumu rolled his eyes. “You like hangin’ out with me, don’t lie, Sunarin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna didn’t dignify that with a response. Partly because ignoring Atsumu was the best way to annoy him, and partly because he was right. Suna didn’t mind Atsumu. If he was being honest, he actually liked him most of the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We all know why you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanna get back to your hotel room,” said Atsumu at an obnoxious volume. “You want privacy so you can get all close and- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oww</span>
  </em>
  <span>, ‘Samu!” Atsumu rubbed the back of his head and glared at Osamu as he passed by. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t drink too much, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu curled an arm around Suna’s waist. “You’ll embarrass yourself again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s protests followed them across the banquet hall, until they dipped through the door to the kitchen. The hallway was empty aside from echoing sounds of running water and clanging pans. Suna wondered if it reminded Osamu of Onigiri Miya. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure we can leave this way?” asked Osamu, as Suna led them along a twisting corridor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not supposed to, but we technically can. Takes us out toward the side street. Trust me, I leave this way every year so I don’t have to say goodbye to everybody.” They reached the end of the hall and Suna pushed through the door. The cold air hit them all at once, and Suna’s face was immediately numb. Osamu wrapped an arm around him and they walked toward the street, Suna whipping his phone out to call for a ride. It arrived mercifully fast and they crowded together in the backseat, sharing body heat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna told the driver the name of the hotel and they were off, drifting through the nighttime Tokyo streets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s supposed to get colder tonight,” said Suna. He captured Osamu’s hands in his own. “It’ll be freezing when we leave in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu hummed and gently squeezed Suna’s fingers. “We coulda went tonight instead. There’s still time, if you wanna change your mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And give up the fancy hotel room the team is paying for? I don’t think so. We’re living rich tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu breathed a laugh. “The banquet wasn’t as bad as you said it was gonna be. It was kinda nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was better with you there.” Suna leaned into him, and Osamu turned his head to kiss Suna’s jaw. “You’ll have to come every year, now. That’s the price of dating me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I can afford it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna kissed him. He thought it would be quick, but when he felt how warm Osamu’s mouth was, he lingered. He pulled back only when the car took a sharp turn and he remembered they weren’t alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll get breakfast at the hotel before we leave,” Suna said a few minutes later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Breakfast in bed. My favorite.” Streetlights flashed across Osamu’s face as he said, more quietly, “then we’ll go home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Home, to Hyogo. Home, to Onigiri Miya. Home, to Osamu’s loft. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna’s schedule didn’t allow him to stay there often, but it was still his home. Not because of the location, but because of who was always there waiting for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” agreed Suna, as he settled against Osamu. Home was usually in Hyogo, but right now it was in the back of a random car, with a rumpled suit and a tie loosened midway down his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was home. Anywhere with Osamu was home, and now that Suna had found his way back, he would never leave again.</span>
</p>
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